


Rather Be

by WardsAreFunctioning



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All of the Tropes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Issues, Fluff, Smut, So many tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardsAreFunctioning/pseuds/WardsAreFunctioning
Summary: “Okay so… you remember how I had that really cool plan where we would pretend you had a boyfriend for a while and then Mama wouldn’t bring a date for you to the wedding?”“Yes,” Elizabeth said warily. “And you remember how I said no to that plan, right?”“Well, yeah. But then I decided to do it anyway.” Lydia glanced over. “Don’t look at me like that! Mama was talking about Book Club Guy again. Desperate measures were absolutely necessary.”___To avoid the fate of her mother meddling in her love life, Elizabeth Trevelyan ends up bringing a fake date to her sister Jane's wedding.A Modern AU with the characters fromUnder Good Regulation





	1. we're a thousand miles from comfort

 

The restaurant that Jane picked for brunch was pricey, crowded, and absolutely stunning. Elizabeth studied the main room, cupping warm breath into her cold hands while the host flicked through names on an iPad. The layout fell somewhere between cozy and open concept. It had pale hardwood floors, white walls, and huge windows that probably opened up to the sidewalk in the summer. Every surface--from the tabletops, to the servers’ stations, to the bar in the back--was statuario marble. Or at least something close enough to pass for marble. Plants with green vines hung from the ceiling, and tiny succulents sat beside tea candles in the middle of each table.

 _Classic Jane,_ Elizabeth thought to herself.

The host found Jane’s reservation and guided Elizabeth toward a corner booth in the back. He placed three menus on the table. One of them, Elizabeth noticed with faint amusement, was for cocktails, despite it still being morning.

She read through the brunch menu twice. Elizabeth knew she was in for a wait. Kitty had offered to drive their other sisters. She’d pick up Jane, the eldest, first, Elizabeth assumed, since their apartments were close together, and then Mary and Lydia from their parents’ house--which meant dealing with their mother, just four weeks after Jane got engaged. If they were anything less than half an hour late, it would be a miracle.  

By the time Elizabeth heard Lydia and Kitty laughing at the entrance, she’d moved on to reading on her phone. She put it away and stood, grinning. The youngest two greeted her cheerfully and hugged her before shedding their coats and slipping into the curved booth. Mary forewent the hug and simply sat down.

“How did you beat us here?” Lydia asked Elizabeth. She fixed the messy bun that had been trapped under her hat. “There was so much traffic coming from your end, I thought for sure we’d be first.”

“We’re twenty minutes late,” Mary told Lydia. “ _Someone_ had to redo their eyeliner twice.”

Lydia scoffed. “Well _someone_ didn’t knock when I was doing it the first time.”

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a grin before hugging last. “Good choice,” Elizabeth told her. “The food looks great.”

Mary glanced at the menu with a frown. “At these prices, it better be.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Lydia said. “Jane’s buying.” She shuffled through the menus, then glanced across the table. “Is that the cocktail menu?”

“Lydia,” Elizabeth said. “It’s eleven forty-five.”

“Yes, but we’re celebrating,” Lydia said.

Sighing, Elizabeth passed her the menu.

“How was the bus?” Kitty asked.

“Not bad for a Sunday,” Elizabeth replied. Despite moving further out from Ostwick center a year ago, she’d stayed firm in her decision not to own a car. It was an easy way to save money. She lived within walking distance of her teaching job, and the bus went almost everywhere in the city. If she needed a car, she could borrow or rent one. “How’s Denny doing?” she asked. Kitty had moved in with her boyfriend the previous summer. It seemed to be going well.

Kitty scrunched her nose. “Okay. They doubled his hours. But at least he’s getting overtime.”

“He’s on track for a promotion, isn’t he?” Jane asked.

“Not until next year, unfortunately,” Kitty said.

They chatted for a few minutes until the server came by. Elizabeth ordered soft-boiled eggs with unbuttered toast, home fries well done, and a cup of Lady Grey tea. Jane chose the avocado toast _sans_ bacon, Mary and Lydia got the belgian waffles, and Kitty decided on a cheeseburger with fancy local cheddar. Lydia also got herself a bloody mary, and insisted that Jane get a mimosa (“Because we’re _celebrating,”_ she reminded everyone for the second time). Once the menus were cleared away, and the drinks had been served, attention turned to Jane.

“Well,” she said, folding her napkin across her lap, “as you’ve probably guessed, I planned this brunch for a specific reason.” She smiled down at her hands. “Cullen and I have set a date.”

Elizabeth had already heard the news, but still squeezed Jane’s arm, grinning. Lydia and Kitty squealed, clapping their hands. Even Mary gave Jane a genuine congratulations.

“When?” Kitty asked. “Where?”

“August 17th,” Jane said. “In Ferelden. We’re booking a mountain resort. It’s adorable, I’m sure you’ll all love it.”

Elizabeth paused, her smile fading. “Really?” she asked, surprised. Last week, when the three of them had spoken on the phone, Jane and Cullen had told her they’d decided on a small, local wedding, at the restaurant where Cullen had proposed.

“Yes,” Jane said vaguely. She began to dig through her purse. “It’s in the Frostback mountains.” Glancing up, she added, “Oh, and I’d like the four of you to be my bridesmaids, of course.”

 _“Yes!”_ Kitty exclaimed with a fist pump.

 _“Duh,”_ Lydia said.

“Of course we will,” Elizabeth said.

“Told you so,” Lydia said to Kitty smugly.

Mary broke in. “I have a couple of questions. Will there be specific requirements leading up to the wedding?”

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

“Well, for example, will one of us be in charge of planning your bridal shower? If so, who? And will you make us get our hair done by a professional?”

“Andraste, Mary,” Lydia complained. “Just stuff it and put on a dress that Jane likes for a day.”

“I like to know what my responsibilities entail before I agree to a commitment.”

“Come on. Are you really going to say _‘no’_ if Jane decides she wants us to get our hair done?”

Mary stuck out her chin. “Maybe. I don’t like strangers touching my hair.”

Jane put up her hands, stopping them both. “You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to,” she told Mary. “I promise. This is an event about love, and family. The only thing I ask is that my sisters be up there with me when I say my vows.” Kitty let out a quiet _‘aww’_. Jane gave them all a smile. “You’ll even be able to choose your own dress.”

Mary looked mollified. “Really?”

“Yes. Cullen and I just need to decide on colors.”

Lydia gasped. “Colors!” she exclaimed. “Maker’s breath, Jane, _please_ tell me I can help you pick out the colors.”

“No,” Elizabeth said firmly, just as Jane said, “Maybe?”

Lydia had already taken out her phone and was typing with both thumbs. _“Awesome._ I’m making a Pinterest board and sharing it with you. Which do you prefer, Jullen or Cane?”

“Um,” Jane said.

“Jullen,” Lydia decided without input. “Cane sounds stupid.”

“They both sound stupid,” Mary said.

Lydia began typing. “Jul-len Wed-ding Ins-pir-ation Board,” she read out loud. At the end, she pressed her screen with a flourish. “Done!”

“Put me on it, too!” Kitty said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll add all of you,” Lydia promised, typing some more.

“I don’t have a Pinterest,” Mary said.

Lydia ignored her. “How do we feel about neons?”

“Tacky,” Kitty said. Lydia shot her a wounded look. Kitty backed down, apparently only just realizing that Lydia’s sweatshirt was electric blue. “But, like, in a cool, Blessed Age way,” she said. “Like Jazzercise. Or fanny packs.”

“You guys,” Jane said, holding back a smile. “Calm down. You haven’t even seen the venue yet.” She took two brochures out of her purse. One, she passed across the table to Mary, and the second, she unfolded into a large, glossy map. It depicted a blob of blue surrounded by green. Various grey rectangles and circles dotted the green part, labelled with names like _‘Indoor Pool’_ and _‘Entertainment Center’,_ and _‘Pavillion’._

 _“‘Bunny Slopes?’”_ Kitty read from one corner.

“It’s a ski resort in the winter,” Jane explained. “But during the warmer months, they rent it out for events. Like weddings, and corporate retreats.”

Lydia gave Jane a flat stare. “You’re getting married at a corporate retreat.”

“No,” Jane said with what was, in Elizabeth’s opinion, an unbelievable amount of patience. “I told you, it’s a resort.” Lydia looked skeptical. She grabbed the first brochure from Mary, who hadn’t opened it yet. Elizabeth peered over her shoulder. Jane continued, “We have the whole place to ourselves Thursday through Sunday. Two days for family, and two more for the whole party. There’ll be activities. Games. Contests.” Her smile widened. “A ropes course.”

“Right,” Elizabeth said slowly, studying her older sister. She let her eyes fall back to the map. “I guess everyone loves a good ropes course.”

Something felt off. The resort didn’t sound like a place Jane would choose, and while Cullen could have a secret lake and/or mountain obsession she did not know about, Elizabeth had never seen Cullen put his foot down about anything when it came to her older sister. The name at the top of the map caught her eye, and she frowned.

“... wait a second. Grand Haven Resort.” She blinked. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“Grand Haven Resort?” Mary leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Isn’t that where Mama and Father got married?”

 _Oh._ The other shoe dropped. Elizabeth, Kitty, and Lydia all turned to look at Jane, askance. She avoided meeting their eyes. “Yes, it is,” she admitted.

“Jane,” Elizabeth said. “Did Mama pick this place?”

Jane bit her lip, hesitating. “...we’re getting an excellent discount.”

“Oh, Maker, Jane,” Kitty said. “Please don’t tell me Mama is planning your wedding.”

 _“Ugh,”_ Lydia said. “Imagine the precedent _that_ would set. Half of us would end up getting married in Orlais.”

“She’s not planning anything,” Jane assured them. After a beat, she added, “The resort _was_ her suggestion. But I actually like the look of the place.” She shrugged as Elizabeth gave her a look. “Just because it was her idea doesn’t mean it’s a bad one.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I’m pretty sure that the Venn diagram of ‘Mama’s ideas’ and ‘Mama’s bad ideas’ is _this close_ to being a circle,” she said, holding a half inch of air between her thumb and finger.

“But look how cute it is!” Jane insisted, turning back to the brochure. “Like summer camp, with a fancy party at the end. Room and board are included with the cost, so no one has to pay for anything. Most guests will be staying here.” She pointed to an area with dozens of red squares marked _‘Residential’._ “Each cabin has three or four rooms, plus a shared bathroom.”

“A _shared bathroom?”_ Lydia exclaimed.

“I said _most_ guests,” Jane said. “The people who are only staying a night or two.” Her finger drifted to the top of the residential area, near the lake, where there were a few smaller, isolated cabins. “The wedding party will be staying up here, in the bungalows. They’re like little one room huts with a fireplace. And a porch. Here.” She turned the brochure, folding it in half, and showed them a picture on the back. Three little red huts with white trimmings sat on a sparkling lake, surrounded by trees. “See? Cute, right?”

Elizabeth tilted her head to look. She didn’t want to support a plan her mother had come up with, but the bungalows _were_ pretty cute. In fact, it almost felt as if she’d seen them somewhere before.

Kitty blinked at the picture. _“Oh.”_ A grin spread across her face. “Maker’s breath, Jane! It’s like _Dirty Dancing!”_

Jane smiled, seeming relieved. “That’s what Cassandra said.”

“You should have just said so,” Kitty gushed. “Oh, Denny will be thrilled.”

Elizabeth looked up, amused. “Denny likes _Dirty Dancing?”_

“Loves it,” Kitty said. “He used to watch it all the time growing up.”

“Oh,” Lydia said. “By the way. Daphne’s invited, right? I know we’ve only been dating a year, but by next August--”

Jane cut her off. “Don’t worry, she’s invited.”

“Okay,” Lydia said, relaxing back into the booth. “Cool.”

Mary shot a quick glance at Jane, then looked away. “Um,” she began. “So. Does that mean… we _all_ get--?”

Just then, the server came by with their food, and conversation came to an abrupt halt. Jane folded the brochures back into her purse as she thanked the server. It took a moment to get the right plate in front of the right person, and for Lydia to order a second bloody mary.

Once they were settled, and had appropriately complimented the food in front of them, Mary cleared her throat. “Jane?”

“Yes?”

“Do we all get a guest?”

“Of course,” Jane replied, surprised. “I mean, if you want.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why? Is there someone you’d like to bring?”

“Yes.” To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mary’s cheeks had turned a little pink. “I’ve, um, been seeing someone since last summer.”

“You have?” Lydia asked, her eyes wide, mid-bite. _“You_ have?”

Mary shot Lydia a glare. “Yes. His name is Thom, and I met him through work.”

Lydia abandoned her food for her phone. “Thom. Thom what?”

Mary rolled her eyes. “He’s not on social media.” Lydia paused, made a face, and then started typing again. Mary watched her, worried. “What are you doing?”

 _“Nothing,”_ Lydia said in an innocent sing-song voice.

 _“Lydia,”_ Elizabeth said, exasperated. “Come on. Leave it alone. This is supposed to be about the wedding.”

“This is about the wedding,” Lydia said. “I’m conducting background checks on potential party guests.”

“Does Mama know?” Jane asked Mary.

“No,” Mary said. “Not yet. I’ll tell her before I leave, though. I just didn’t want to… deal, you know?”

Elizabeth sympathized. Their mother was one of the main reasons she kept her own love life as private as possible. Not that she had much of one to speak of these days.

“Mama is just as bad when you’re single, though,” Kitty pointed out.

“I know,” Mary muttered darkly. “Believe me.”

Lydia froze. Her mouth fell open as she realized something. “Oh, shit. _Lizzie.”_

“What?” Elizabeth asked.

“This means you’re going to be the only single one at the wedding,” Lydia said.

Kitty winced. “Yikes. Mama is going to be all over you.”

“Oh, she doesn’t care as much about me,” Elizabeth replied. She wiggled her fingers. “Mage.”

“I don’t know,” Jane said doubtfully. “What about the time she tried to set you up with Dorian?”

“And there was that one guy with the dog,” Kitty said.

“And then there was the son of her book club friend,” Lydia agreed.

Elizabeth groaned. “Right. I forgot about Book Club Guy.”

“He was the _worst,”_ Kitty said.

“See?” Lydia said. “She will definitely find a way to invite at least one potential suitor to the wedding.”

“At least one?” Elizabeth asked dryly. “How many are you expecting?”

“If there’s too many, maybe you could hand out roses, like on the Bachelorette,” Jane suggested, amused.

“Wait,” Lydia said, clapping. “I have an idea. What if we tell Mama that Lizzie has a boyfriend? We’ll start mentioning him now. And then the week of the wedding, boom! The new boyfriend gets the flu. He can’t make it. And we’re all saved from Book Club Guy ending up in the pictures.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Elizabeth said.

“Is it, though?” Lydia said.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Lydia. It’s four days. I can handle Mama for four days.”

Lydia looked disappointed. “You never want to do anything fun,” she said. With a dramatic sigh, she began scrolling through the phone in her hand. “Huh. He spells Thom with an ‘ _h’?_ What is he, Orlesian?”

Mary blinked, startled. “What the--! Give me that!” she snapped, grabbing her phone back from Lydia.

“Fine, but you should know I already texted Kitty all his info,” Lydia said cheerfully.

“Andraste preserve me,” Mary muttered. “You’re as bad as Mama.”

As Elizabeth took another bite of her toast, she found she couldn’t disagree. She thought to herself that being the only single Trevelyan certainly had its perks.

 

~

 

Two months later, Elizabeth and Lydia went to look at bridesmaids dresses together. Lydia had not been triumphant in her choice of colors; Jane had settled on sage green, which was about as far from neon as she could get. As the car pulled off Elizabeth’s street, Lydia snuck a look at her sister.

“Oh, um,” Lydia said in an overly casual voice. “By the way. Mama might be a little mad at you.”

Elizabeth raised on eyebrow. “Why would Mama be mad at me?”

“She doesn’t like that you’re dating an elf.”

_“What?”_

“I know, I know,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “She is _such_ a racist.”

“That’s not what I….” Elizabeth shook her head. “Lydia, I’m not dating anyone.”

“Well, Mama thinks you are.”

“Uh huh. And _why_ exactly does Mama think I’m dating an elf?”

“Okay so… you remember how I had that really cool plan where we would pretend you had a boyfriend for a while and then Mama wouldn’t bring a date for you to the wedding?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said warily. “And you remember how I said no to that plan, right?”

“Well, yeah. But then I decided to do it anyway.” Lydia glanced over. “Don’t look at me like that! Mama was talking about Book Club Guy again. Desperate measures were absolutely necessary.”

“Lydia!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I’m almost thirty years old. I can’t _pretend_ to be dating someone. And how did he end up an elf?”

“Well, she wanted to see a picture, so I pulled up the first one I could find of you with some random guy. A random elf guy, as it turns out.”

“What picture?”

“I don’t know. It’s from Insta.”

“Impossible,” Elizabeth said. “I blocked you after you sent that weird message to my old roommate.”

“Oh, how _is_ Ellendra?” Lydia asked, momentarily distracted.

“Still fifteen years older than you. And you have a girlfriend. Don’t change the subject. Where did you get the picture?”

“I went to Jane’s account,” Lydia explained, unconcerned. She pulled out her phone and began scrolling. “Duh.”

“Eyes on the road, please!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

They reached a red light, and Lydia found the picture. She passed Elizabeth her phone. Elizabeth blinked, surprised. It was from five years ago, when Jane’s boss would host a regular happy hour. For a while, Elizabeth would join them after her grad school classes were over.

There were a half dozen people in the shot, but Elizabeth did not need to ask which guy Lydia had chosen as her fake boyfriend. A somewhat tipsy younger Elizabeth had grasped the arm of the man next to her--almost certainly to steady herself, but in the frame, it looked like an intimate gesture.

And she recognized the man instantly.

“Maker’s breath” she said. “You’re kidding.”

“Who is it?”

“He’s an old coworker of Jane’s. Solas.”

“Solas,” Lydia repeated thoughtfully.

Elizabeth glared at her sister. “Don’t you dare give Mama his name.” She made a face. “Ugh. I got into a few arguments with him about magic back when he worked with her. I’m sure I came across like an idiot.”

“So he has strong opinions about mages?” Lydia asked.

“He is one,” Elizabeth replied. “Don’t tell Mama that, either.” She sighed. “She really brought up inviting Book Club Guy?”

“She did.”

Elizabeth handed her sister the phone. “Fine. Do what you need to. But at least give her a fake name or something, I really don’t need her looking him up.”

“Can do,” Lydia said, giving Elizabeth a thumb’s up.

 

~

 

Less than eight hours later, Elizabeth received a text from her mother while she was grading papers.

_9:15 PM_

_Looking forward to meeting Solas soon!_

“Fucking Lydia,” Elizabeth muttered. She put her phone away.

 

~

 

Word got out amongst the Trevelyan sisters that Lydia’s plan was now in action. Kitty was delighted, Jane was confused--mostly at how her old coworker had gotten involved--and Mary was disappointed. Elizabeth decided it wasn’t worth the drama to try and stop it. She did not speak to her mother often enough for her fake relationship to need any real depth anyway, and Lydia seemed happy enough to work out the details herself.

And perhaps all would have been fine if Jane hadn’t begged Elizabeth and their mother to pick up the rings from the jewelers in the local mall a few months later. Jane was swamped at work, and worried that the shop would close before she could leave. Mrs. Trevelyan offered to drive.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend?” Mrs. Trevelyan said once they’d entered the mall.

“No,” Elizabeth said without looking. For all intents and purposes, over the past few months Solas had stopped existing as a real person in her mind. The idea that he could be in the mall with them never even occurred to her.

“I’m fairly sure it is,” Mrs. Trevelyan said. “Or at least someone who looks remarkably like him. Solas!”

Elizabeth glanced in the direction her mother was pointing and did a double take. Not thirty feet from them, standing at a tie kiosk, was the man from the now infamous Instagram photo. She’d assumed her mother was conflating one bald elf with another, but no. She recognized his profile instantly.

The next three minutes of Elizabeth’s life played out as if in horrific yet unstoppable slow motion, not unlike a car crash or an explosion on TV.

“Excuse me!” Mrs. Trevelyan said again as they reached the kiosk. Solas blinked at them, clearly surprised. “Solas, I presume?”

Solas straightened, surprise becoming curiosity. “Yes?”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Lizzie’s mom,” Mrs. Trevelyan gushed. She chuckled. “Or Elizabeth’s mom. I’m not sure what you call her.”

“Ah. Elizabeth,” Solas said as his eyes slid to her, as if just realizing he recognized her. “Hello.”

Elizabeth couldn’t speak. Solas looked at her quizzically, presumably waiting for her to intervene and explain why her mother was so eager to meet a man she herself had not seen in five years. Instead, her mouth hung open and she found herself speechless.

Was this really happening?

This was really happening.

Mrs. Trevelyan continued. “You know, I’ve been telling Lizzie to invite you to dinner for months now.”

“Have you?”

“Yes!” Mrs. Trevelyan said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was keeping you from us.”

Solas seemed to catch on to the fact that Mrs. Trevelyan believed Solas and Elizabeth to be far better acquainted than they were. “That seems,” he said slowly, “entirely possible.”

Mrs. Trevelyan laughed as if he’d made a joke. “Well!” she said conspiratorially. “She won’t be able to keep us apart at Jane’s wedding, will she?”

Solas shot her another quick glance. “No,” he said, and to Elizabeth’s growing horror, he looked _amused._ “I suppose not.”

“Are you picking up a tie for the occasion?” Mrs. Trevelyan teased, indicating the blue tie in his hand.

“Mama,” Elizabeth warned as soon as she found her voice. “The rings.” She gave Solas a tight smile. “I’m sorry. We really should get going. We’re already running late.” She hesitated. “I’ll… see you later?”

“Enjoy your afternoon,” he replied.

“Goodbye!” Mrs. Trevelyan said as Elizabeth dragged her away. “Don’t be a stranger--.” Elizabeth yanked her around the corner, and she made an offended noise. “Really, Lizzie. What has gotten into you?”

“Um, we had a fight last night,” she lied.

“Oh,” Mrs. Trevelyan said sympathetically. “I see. That’s too bad. Though he didn’t seem very angry, did he?”

Elizabeth exhaled roughly, her face burning. “Let’s just get the rings and get out of here,” she said.

 

~

 

Once she was home, she called Jane’s work line immediately. “I need you to get me Solas’s number.”

“What? Why?”

Elizabeth thought of trying to explain and simply groaned. “Lydia’s plan made things worse,” she settled on. “I promise I’ll tell you more when we are face-to-face and I’ve had more than two standard units of alcohol.”

Jane was silent on the other end. Finally, she asked, “Are you thinking of actually asking him to the wedding?”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. “No. But he ran into Mama at the mall.”

_“What?”_

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “It went about as well as you’d expect.” She paused. “Actually, it didn’t go as bad as it could have. He seemed to be… playing along? I don’t know. His number, please.” She gripped her forehead. “I feel like I should try to explain things.”

“I don’t have it. He, um. He didn’t leave the company on the best of terms. I’m not even sure if… let me ask around and then text you, okay?”

Elizabeth agreed. After a few minutes, she turned on music and began cooking dinner, trying to focus on the soothing sounds of Paul Simon’s _Graceland_. She tapped her elbow and pretended she wasn’t waiting.

As she poured pasta into some boiling water, she engaged in a little self-pity. The worst part was obviously that Solas now thought she was a crazy person, but she had to admit a close second was that she was going to have to tell her mother that they’d “broken up.” While she did not approve of Lydia’s methods, she had to admit her sister got results. Mrs. Trevelyan hadn’t made a nuisance of herself in months. And she was not looking forward to the re-emergence of Book Club Guy, or whatever fresh face her mother would manage to scrounge up by August.

Finally, Elizabeth’s phone buzzed.

_8:18 PM_

_Couldn’t find the number._

_Email address is s****@g***.com_

_One of the old intern’s had it_

_GL!!!_

Elizabeth winced, then admitted to herself that email was probably better. Sitting  down in front of her computer she took a deep breath and began to write.

 

~

 

Normally, the incident with Elizabeth would have stuck out in Solas’s mind as peculiar, but on that particular day, there were too many other distractions in his life. He sat across from his agent, Felassan, in their usual spot at the deli near his apartment, reading a third rejection letter from a publisher. To say he was less than thrilled with his circumstances was an understatement, and he did not mind mentioning as much to his friend.

“To be fair, you’re never really thrilled with your circumstances,” Felassan pointed out. “That’s what got you into this mess in the first place.”

Solas frowned. Felassan was not wrong. Two years ago, Solas had rather dramatically walked out on a good job in a powerful organization without notice, and his professional reputation had never quite recovered. Now, he was trying to publish a series of articles about a new theory of elven magic. It was beginning to feel like he’d been blacklisted.

“You need,” Felassan said seriously, “to focus on winning back some of your old friends. Significant humans. Preferably ones with ties to the Free Marches. That’s the only way you’re going to get this thing out there.”

“They’re not my audience,” Solas argued.

“They could be,” Felassan said.

Solas raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked suspiciously.

Felassan sighed. “Must you treat everything as a threat?” he asked rhetorically. “I meant that you should not write off old connections. It’s a bad habit of yours. Ties to the Chantry notwithstanding, there was nothing wrong with the Inquisition.” He gave Solas a look. “The war was a long time ago, my friend. Things have changed, for the better.”

“I’m not certain that’s true,” Solas replied.

“Truth is relative.” Felassan finished his coffee with a vague smile, dropping some money onto the table. “I have to run, but this one’s on me.”

“Thank you,” Solas said faintly.

“Yes, well. Someone needs to make sure you eat.”

Solas sat for another moment or two before pulling out his phone. He had a new message. When he saw the name, he felt a tinge of amusement. He had a feeling he was being thanked, or apologized to. Or a mixture of both, he decided.

Before seeing her at the mall with her mother, Solas had not thought of Elizabeth in quite some time. He’d worked closely with Jane for several years, before his abrupt resignation, and Elizabeth sometimes joined them, at happy hours or lunches or dinners. He’d always thought well of her--she had a tendency to speak her mind, and was not afraid to aggravate others. He admired that in a person.

As he read through her email, he realized the situation was even more amusing than he’d expected. Chuckling, he began to write a response. Then he stopped himself.

He sat back, thinking. Felassan’s advice had not been far off--support from his old colleagues would be useful. His old colleagues like Jane, and the people with whom she still worked. And now, the opportunity to see some of them in a casual, social setting and even possibly apologize had all but fallen into his lap.

He could use this.

Making up his mind, he deleted his original response and began again.

 

~

 

Elizabeth heard her email ping from the other room. She winced as she stirred her tea. She knew she’d done the right thing by telling Solas the truth, but now she just wanted the whole thing to be over. It was embarrassing enough to have to drag a grown man into one of Lydia and Mrs. Trevelyan’s messes. She considered not reading his response at all.

In the end, she read it with one eye closed, as if she could block out whatever she didn’t want to see.

But as it continued, her eyebrows rose in shock.

“What?” she whispered to herself.

She read the email twice more. Chewing a nail, she thought of Book Club Guy. She thought of how much she’d been looking forward to not having to deal with her mother harassing her at the wedding. And as Solas pointed out, he would already know some of the people there--Jane’s coworkers, some of the people who’d been in the Inquisition with her--people he seemed eager to see. Between that and her duties as a member of the wedding party, they would not even have to spend much time together.

If the offer was genuine, what was the harm?

She pulled out her phone. _Quick question,_ she texted Jane. _Does the offer of a plus one still stand?_

 


	2. we have traveled land and sea

 

“So you wouldn’t mind if Solas came?” Elizabeth asked Jane, who was carefully placing a lumpish garment bag in the trunk of Kitty’s sedan. Four of the five Trevelyan sisters had accompanied Jane to her final dress fitting. Mary was the only one absent, being in Weisshaupt, while Kitty and Lydia were already waiting inside the car.

A small part of Elizabeth had thought Jane might shut the Solas plan down. She’d even wondered if that wouldn’t be for the best. After she’d explained everything to Ellendra over the phone, and she’d tried to picture Ellendra’s near silent reaction, the idea of faking a relationship to appease her mother seemed more than a little ridiculous.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Jane replied, distracted. She straightened the bag gently, frowning. The dress inside was covered in intricate lace, and Jane tended to worry over it with the intensity of a parent watching a helmetless child on a bike.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Elizabeth said.

“You won’t,” Jane assured her. She sighed, closed the trunk, and made her way over to the backseat. Elizabeth climbed in her side of the car.  

“Are you positive?”

Jane shrugged. “Look. It’s a little strange. But you’re an adult. You can bring whoever you want to the wedding.”

“Are you both strapped in?” Kitty asked, glancing back.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

As Kitty started the car, Elizabeth turned back to Jane. “It won’t be weird with your coworkers there?”

“No.”

“You told me he didn’t leave on the best of terms.”

“He had his reasons,” Jane said. “Some people were mad, true, but I never held it against him.”

“You never hold anything against anyone,” Kitty piped in from the driver’s seat.

“I’m pretty sure she held something against Cullen,” Lydia said, waggling her eyebrows.

Elizabeth ignored them. “You _would_ tell me if it bothered you, right?” she asked Jane.

 _“Maker’s breath,_ Lizzie,” Kitty said in an exasperated tone. “She already said it’s fine.”

“Lizzie wants Jane to be her conscience and absolve her of all her sins,” Lydia said sagely.

“Lizzie wants to make sure things won’t be awkward at the wedding,” Elizabeth told her youngest sister.

 _“Pfft,”_ Lydia said. “Awkward would be Mama inviting some guy she met last week at the grocery store because you’re single and he looked tall. Jane prefers you bringing Solas, but she doesn’t want to admit it because the whole fake boyfriend thing sounds silly.”

“It _is_ silly,” Elizabeth said.

“Silly, but convenient,” Lydia said. “Right, Jane?”

There was a pause. “I mean,” Jane said hesitantly. “It _will_ be nice that it’s someone I know. And Mama might actually focus on the wedding, this way.”

Elizabeth was surprised. After Ellendra’s reaction, she’d expected more pushback. Still, she hesitated.

Kitty groaned. “Lizzie, I swear to the Maker, if you ask her if she’s sure one more time, I’m going to make you walk home.”

“Okay, okay,” Elizabeth said, relenting. “I’ll tell him yes.”

“See?” Lydia said. “Was that so hard?” Without waiting for an answer, she switched gears. “Can we stop at McDonald’s? I want fries.”

Kitty shot her a quick glare. “No. You are _not_ eating in this car. Not after last time.”

“That was a fluke!”

“A crazy expensive fluke.”

“I offered to pay you back!”

“With what money? You still owe me for the elfroot I gave you six months ago.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to stop them, then decided against it. Beside her, Jane let out a sigh. Suddenly, it was glaringly obvious why the situation with Solas was not at the top of the list of things Jane was worried about for the wedding.

Twenty minutes later, as they pulled away from a drivethrough window and Lydia rifled through a paper bag, hunting for fries, Kitty met Elizabeth eyes in the rearview mirror. “None of you can tell Denny about this,” she said. “Okay? Not even if he--Lydia, _I said no ketchup!”_

 

~

 

Telling Felassan had been a mistake, Solas decided. The two of them were seated across from each other at the deli, a pair of half-eaten sandwiches between them. His literary agent stared at him for a long moment, incredulous. Then he threw back his head and laughed. Solas resisted rolling his eyes. He waited for him to recover.

“Solas,” Felassan said at last, wiping his eyes. “I honestly do not know which image I find more amusing:  you playing paramour to some poor woman in front of her wealthy human family, or you trying to charm your way into the good graces of….” He trailed off, scanning Solas with a critical eye. “Well, anyone, really.”

“As always, your faith in me is appreciated,” Solas said dryly.

“Oh, it’s well-earned.”

“For the record, I _was_ on good terms with these people at one time.”

“Yes. And we both know how well that turned out.”

“This will be different,” Solas insisted. He picked at his sandwich. “I am more aware of the stakes this time.”

Felassan chuckled. _“‘Aware of the stakes.’_ ” He shook his head. “And tell me, just how are you planning to end things?”

“End things?”

“You know.” He made a gesture with one hand. “The parting of ways. After the wedding. I assume you two aren’t planning on this little arrangement lasting indefinitely. An explanation will be expected, if you do not show up at the next family event. How will you both manage to come away in a flattering light?”

“I… do not know yet,” Solas admitted. “We are discussing some of the details tonight.”

“Where? Your apartment?”

“No. At a restaurant, closer to her. She does not drive.”

“And you expect to know each other well enough to pull off this charade after a single dinner together,” Felassan said flatly.

“Of course not,” Solas said. “The wedding is in a little over a month. We will be meeting once a week until then.”

“Once a week? Truly?”

“Yes.”

Felassan narrowed his eyes. “At other restaurants.”

“Presumably.”

A smile spread over his face. _“Ah_. You _like_ her.” Solas began to object, but Felassan spoke over him. “What, you expect me to believe you’d willingly spend that much time in close proximity to a person for anything less?

“It was your suggestion that I renew my old connections,” Solas reminded him.

“Ha! It was.  But was it my suggestion that you go on four dates with a person you’ve never even worked with and then attend a wedding as their guest?”

“They are not dates.”

“You barely make time for me,” Felassan said.

“And I am quickly remembering why. You realize I can and will fire you, if necessary.”

“So what is it?” Felassan asked, ignoring the jab. “Her looks? Her personality? Her spirit?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly know her, really.”

“Which makes your arrangement all the more strange. Unless you _do_ like her.”

Felassan waited expectantly, and Solas sighed. “She is an interesting person,” he said. “Or she was, when I worked with her sister.” He recalled quite a few conversations they’d had over drinks regarding the College. They did not see eye-to-eye, but in those days, it had been a rare chance for him to discuss magic. He’d enjoyed the debate. He refocused on the present. “However, as you can see, not so interesting that I would seek her company. Before last Saturday, I had not seen in her in five years.”

“Oh, please. You’d… what, exactly? Seek out a human girl a decade or more your junior--one who proudly attended a College--for social purposes?” Felassan asked, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

“Those are the very reasons why what you are saying is ridiculous.”

“Nonsense,” Felassan said. “Those _are_ the reasons you’d deny it, though. In fact, those reasons--plus your self-imposed removal from society, which puts quite a bit of strain on me, by the way--are probably why you _can’t_ just ask her out for coffee, like a normal person, and instead are concocting a convoluted scheme to spend time with her. Listen to yourself!” He scoffed. “Interesting, indeed.”

Solas stopped himself from replying and considered. He frowned. He did not feel that he was more fond of Elizabeth than any other casual acquaintance, though he did remember looking forward to her being present at events. At the time, he’d attributed it to being able to discuss the topic of magic. He wondered if Felassan had a better read than him, seeing it from a distance.

“It is a moot point, anyway,” he said out loud after a moment. “If I wanted her to remain interesting, I would do far better to avoid her.”

Felassan looked amused. “Oh, really? What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“People inevitably disappoint.”

“Is that so? All people? Myself included?”

“If it is any consolation,” Solas said by way of answer, “I believe I have disappointed you far more.”

Felassan sat back with a chuckle. He folded up the remains of his sandwich. “You know, for a self-absorbed egoist, you really are quite down on yourself, Dread Wolf.”

Solas felt a prickle of annoyance. Felassan knew to be more careful. They were alone, but someone could have overheard the old nickname. “Yes, well. Fortunately, I keep you around to remind me of my flaws.”

“Ah. But I only know of the one, my friend,” Felassan said, throwing down a few bills as he stood.

“And that is?” Solas asked.

Felassan smiled. “You,” he said, “are _never_ aware of the stakes.” He winked. “Enjoy dinner.”

 

~

 

When he arrived at the restaurant--which was more of a diner, really--Solas spotted Elizabeth immediately. It was not difficult. The large room was empty, devoid even of staff. The chrome countertops and faded red leather seats marked the place as a relic of the Blessed Age. Next to an empty counter, a spinning display case offered questionable looking desserts.

She’d picked a booth by the window. Fluorescent lighting made the dark glass into a mirror. Solas could see her face clearly despite the fact that she was facing away from him. She stared at a notebook, a pen in her hand tapping the table as she read.

He had not taken the chance to really study at her at the mall, but with Felassan’s remarks fresh in his mind, he could not help but do so now. She was dressed casually--a thin gray sweater that left part of her collarbone exposed, and jeans. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun with a few strands escaping. She wore a large pair of glasses that he had not seen before.

Besides the mall, they’d only ever met at events--at happy hours, or dinners, or the occasional corporate lunch. This more casual look suited her. His eyes lingered on her legs, and he caught himself wondering if he’d ever seen them bare.

He blinked. The thought should not have surprised him. That she was an attractive woman was clear. Any person passing by would say the same. Before, he would have not even dwelt on the observation--but now it bothered him. 

Felassan was getting to him.

Clearing his throat, he approached the table.

Elizabeth looked up. “Solas! Hi. Welcome.” She held up the notebook. “I figured we should take notes.”

“Wise,” he said. There were no menus. He glanced around for a waiter.

She noticed with a wince. “Service here is... a little slow,” she said apologetically. “But it’s the only place within walking distance from my apartment.”

“I see,” Solas said, taking his seat across from her. “Next time, I can drive us somewhere, if you would like.”

“Oh, there’s no need to do that,” Elizabeth said.

“It makes the most sense. For several reasons. If we were dating, we’d have visited several restaurants together.” Elizabeth allowed that. Solas clasped his hands on the table. “So. What are we discussing?”

“I figured we could start with some background details.”

“Such as?”

“Basic first date stuff,” she said, opening her book. “Where you’re from, family, career, et cetera.” She glanced up. “Do you want to go first?”

“It is more important that I know about your family, is it not?”

“Yeah, but I should know a bit about you, too.”

“Perhaps not,” he said curtly. “I… do not speak much about my past.”

“Ooh, that sounds ominous,” Elizabeth joked with a grin. She saw his expression, and her face fell. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry--”

Solas shook his head. “It is fine. I should apologize, I’m afraid I’m overcomplicating things.” He focused on his hands. “In short, I am from a small village in the north. I do not have much family to speak of. It is safe to say that any real partner of mine would never meet any of them.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth said. Her manner was more guarded now, and Solas chastised himself for starting things off in such a brusque manner.

“As you are aware, I did not attend a College,” he offered. 

“Was that intentional, or…?”

He gave her a small smile. “They were not around when my magic first manifested, if that is what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t,” Elizabeth replied, looking confused.

He’d assumed she was digging for his age. He relaxed. “Ah. Was I an apostate by choice, then? Yes. I was not part of a Circle, either, before the war.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I received instruction… elsewhere.” He paused. “When I was young, I spent much of my time studying the Fade. Eventually, I moved down here and began working with the Inquisition. Two years ago, after several of my suggestions went ignored, and many of my complaints were left unaddressed, I resigned from my position. I assume Jane told you that.” Elizabeth nodded. He went on, “Since then, I have been working with and writing about several elven activist groups across Thedas.”

“Really?” Elizabeth said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yes,” Solas said. “It is a passion that began in my youth, and that I’ve returned to. Unfortunately, many of the groups are not taken seriously. Particularly because I tend toward ones that support elven mage rights.”

“Ouch,” Elizabeth said with a sympathetic wince. “Double whammy.”

“Ha!” Solas snorted. “The professional term is intersectionality. But… yes. _‘Double whammy’_ works as well.” This time, his smile was returned. “And what about you?” he asked.

The doors behind the counter swung open, and a waiter emerged with menus. He tried to drop them off without even a greeting, and Elizabeth stopped him to order food. Following her lead, Solas quickly picked the Cobb salad. The waiter retreated back behind the swinging doors.

Elizabeth continued as if they had not been interrupted. “Well, I’m a teacher.”

“Ah yes, I remember. Older children, I believe?”

“Yes. High school. Math.”

“Not at a College?”

“No,” Elizabeth said. Solas was curious to hear her reasoning for not teaching where she’d essentially spent her adolescence, but she moved on without leaving time for him to ask. “Family-wise, I’m one of five girls. You already know Jane. She’s the oldest. Then there’s me, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.” She counted them off on her fingers. “Mary is very serious. Even as a kid, she hardly ever smiled. She’s also pretty religious, so I doubt she’ll talk to you much. Kitty used to be a bit of a wild child, but she’s settled down since she met her boyfriend. Denny. He’s a templar.”

Solas raised his eyebrows. “Two templars in one family,” he observed.

“Well, Cullen hasn't been one in years. But yes, two _templars_.” She put air quotes around the word. “They’re both very nice,” she added, as if apologizing.

“I remember Cullen,” Solas said. “We did not work closely together--not as closely as I worked with Jane--but he seemed like a good man. Is he still at the Inquisition?”

“No, he left about a year ago. He does social work now, I think. Lydia is the youngest. She lives at home. She still _is_ a wild child, and she’s the reason _this,”_ she waved a hand between the two of them, “is happening in the first place.”

“Ah,” Solas said. He remembered a sister being mentioned in Elizabeth’s initial email.

“I’m the only mage,” she said, looking at her notebook. Solas had the impression that she was avoiding his gaze for a moment, and wondered why. She glanced back up at him. “All my sisters know this is fake, by the way.”

That surprised him. “Really? Even Jane?”

“Yes.”

“What are her thoughts?” he asked.

“She’s in favor of it, actually. It’s complicated.”

Solas tried to think whether Jane knowing about the plan worked for him or against him. It was a favor for her sister,  but it was also duplicitous, and he knew Jane would not appreciate that. He wondered if he should tell Elizabeth what he was really hoping to accomplish. But he was well aware of her close relationship with Jane, and he worried she might say something.

“Will anyone else know?” he asked instead.

“Cullen, I assume. And Denny. And Lydia’s girlfriend, Daphne. Mary’s bringing some guy I’ve never met before. Thom. Maybe she’ll tell him.”

“It is beginning to sound like more people will know than not.”

“As long as Mama doesn’t figure it out, we’re good,” Elizabeth said. She made a face. “Obviously, you’ve met her.”

“I have.”

“To be safe, we should keep it from my father, too. He is a lot more… rational. But he does like to tease people, and he would want to egg Mama on.” She chewed on a piece of her vegetable stir fry, thinking. “I’m trying to remember who else will be there. My uncle--my father’s older brother--he passed away a few years ago. His two sons, Bertram and Johnny, will come with their families.” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “Sorry. John. Not Johnny.” She looked at her plate, then back up at him. “I feel like this is more than you need to know.”

“I assure you I won’t remember all of it,” Solas said with a thin smile.

“Which is probably realistic,” Elizabeth said, her gaze going distant with thought. “I doubt Daphne knows about Bertram or John.”

Solas’s mind drifted. Unexpectedly, he found himself noticing her eyes. While the cheap fluorescent lighting had washed out Elizabeth's face--as well as his own, he expected--it actually flattered her dark brown eyes. Normally, in his memory, one could not tell the iris from the pupil, but here, under the fake bright lights of the diner, he could see various layers of brown and yellow and gold in between. Like rings on a fallen redwood tree, or a pattern on the wing of a butterfly.

It took him a moment to realize she had asked him a question.

“I apologize,” he said, only slightly horrified with himself. “Could you repeat that?”

She didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “I was just wondering what sort of hobbies and interests we might have in common. Other than, you know.” She wiggled the fingers on one hand. “Magic.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, they discussed art, literature, physics, and history, discovering overlap in several areas. They even subscribed to the same newspaper--though Elizabeth clarified that hers was a digital subscription, and she mainly did it for the crossword puzzles. He chuckled at that. Solas mentioned cuisine, and Elizabeth shrugged half-heartedly. Elizabeth brought up sports, and Solas had nothing to offer. Their food came shortly after, and the conversation shifted as she described her side business, customized jewelry that she sold online. She showed him several pieces on her phone--a pair of earrings with opals, a necklace curved into the shape of a horse, a bracelet decorated with swirls that mimicked Dalish _vallaslin._ Solas was impressed. Knowing her background in mathematics, he had not expected her to be creatively inclined.

“I draw, actually,” he mentioned. “I have no examples on me, but could bring them. Next time.”

“Do you?” she said. “I'd like that.” She took back her phone. “Then from one artist to another--which is your favorite?” 

“The necklace,” he said.

“That one took forever,” she said. She squinted at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“That is the point of this dinner, is it not?” Solas pointed out wryly.

Elizabeth laughed. “True. But this one might be more… sensitive. How old are you?”

“How old do you think I am?”

“Well, your magic manifested before the war,” she mused. “So you must be, what? Over 37?”

“I am over 37, yes,” Solas confirmed.

“Significantly? Like, more than five years over?”

Solas chuckled, looking down. “Perhaps we should leave it at the fact that I am over 37.”

Elizabeth looked amused, her eyes flicking over him. “If you're old enough to be cagey about it, then you've aged very well.” Solas felt something at that. He tilted his head in thanks, and she added, “I turned 30 in the spring, by the way. In case someone mentions it.”

“Ah,” Solas siad. Felassan’s voice echoed in his head-- _a human girl a decade or more your junior._ He winced. His friend’s other question came to his mind. “What will you tell your family afterwards?” he wondered.

“What do you mean?”

“Well. Presumably, at some point, you will need to tell them we are no longer together.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said. “Right.” She rolled her eyes a little. “I’ll just say it was my fault.”

That surprised him, as did the bitterness in her tone. “Will you?”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth sighed, spearing a piece of broccoli with a fork. “My mother will blame it on me, regardless.” She saw his curious expression and shook her head. “I don’t want to get into it. Mama requires a whole dinner on her own.”

“As you wish,” Solas said.

 

 

~

 

When dinner was over, Solas walked Elizabeth back to her apartment, which was nearby. To his surprise, she hugged him goodbye. He froze for a stunned moment, feeling the warmth of her pressed up against him. Belatedly, he wrapped his own stiff arms around her.

 _Of course,_ he realized. A fake relationship would involve fake affection, and she was testing the waters. She was much smaller than he’d thought. He wondered if she could possibly be as fragile as she felt. She wore something with a floral scent--he’d only just registered it as rose, when she pulled away.

He cleared his throat. “I realize that was… not the most believable, on my part.”

She laughed and squeezed his arm affectionately--another surprise. “We’ll work on it,” she said, with a grin that almost looked suggestive. She was just amused, he assumed, but he could not help the jolt that ran through his body.  

His walk back to the car was brisk. As per usual, his desire to pick apart the previous two hours warred with his tendency to bury things. He ended up doing the latter.

But as he started up his engine, he could not help but notice his arm was still warm where she’d touched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no way Elizabeth would be Elizabeth without spending her teenage years away from her family, and being a little otherized by society. Any modern AU with her was always going to need magic. I went with the Mage-Templar war having happened 30 years ago, ish. Basically it made society go from a required Circle, where mages spent their whole lives and were locked up, to a modern College, where mages went to learn magic and then "graduated" at a certain point to go live in the real world. Apostates are people who have been in neither, and I would assume face job discrimination, social pressure, judgement, etc. 
> 
> It did not make sense for characters to discuss this IN the fic, and I wanted to clarify. But I also know the majority of readers probably don't want too much world-building in a fake dating modern AU when there's BED SHARING to get to, so. Hopefully, we're good?


	3. but as long as we're together

Elizabeth typed out a quick email to a sick student in one of her classes while she waited outside her apartment building. When Solas arrived in a smart-looking sedan, she waved hello and climbed in the passenger side. It was clear that he was an organized man from the state of his car. Even his manner of driving seemed methodical. He had both hands on the wheel at ten and two o’clock exactly, almost like a driving school diagram, she noticed with some amusement.

“I’m glad I looked this place up,” she said as he drove.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I had to change when I came home from work.” She gestured at her skirt, blouse, and heels. “It’s a bit of step up from the diner.” She grinned. “Then again, what wouldn’t be?”

Solas looked her over when they reached a stop sign. “Ah, I see.” His gaze returned to the road. “You look very nice.”

“Oh, you don’t have to say that. I wasn’t digging for compliments.”

“I understand. It was meant sincerely.”

She glanced at him. “In that case, thanks. You look nice, too.”

“Thank you.”

He did look nice. He wore a white button up with the sleeves rolled up and gray slacks, with a pair of black shoes. But she doubted he’d put any more effort into his outfit than usual. His style—like his driving—had always been careful and tidy, with a hint of an academic flair. It suited him—crisp shirts and dark vests that complemented his strong jawline and chin. As she studied at his profile, she remembered that he’d once owned a tweed jacket she’d liked. She wondered if he still had it.

They got to the restaurant, and she realized she shouldn’t have been so concerned. “Half the people here are in jeans,” she complained to Solas as a waiter brought them to their table.

“Are you offended?” Solas asked, a smile playing on his lips. “You do not strike me as the type.”

“I just meant Yelp let me down. I wouldn’t have worn heels if I’d known. I avoid them at all costs.” She noticed Solas take another glance toward her feet. “Don’t worry. These are my most comfortable pair,” she told him. “I’m just whining.”

“You are not whining,” Solas assured her.

Their table was next to a square brick pillar that blocked half the restaurant. To her surprise, when they got there, Solas pulled out her chair for her. The restaurant was dim, and each table had a candle decorating it. Warm candlelight was certainly an improvement over the fluorescence of the diner, Elizabeth noticed as Solas took the seat across from her.

The waiter described a handful of dinner specials for them. Then he left. As she opened up her menu, Elizabeth asked, “Have you been here before?”

“I have not. Besides the sandwich counter at the corner of my street, I rarely eat out. I like Antivan food, however, and a friend who dines out frequently recommended it.”

Elizabeth had never had Antivan food. She scanned the menu, noting with a twinge of concern the number of times the word _‘spicy’_ came up. When the waiter came by, they ordered drinks, and then she chose the tuna salad with no olives, no peppers, chicken instead of tuna, and dressing on the side.

She realized Solas was looking at her with quizzical amusement. “What?” she asked.

He shook his head and ordered his own food. The waiter left with the menus. Elizabeth noticed Solas’s eyes still crinkled at the edges as he watched her.

“Seriously, what is it?” she asked.

“You are familiar, I presume, with the film, _‘When Harry Met Sally’?”_

“Oh,” she said, pursing her lips. “Right. I haven’t seen it, but yes. People have told me I order food like Sally.”

“You’ve never seen _‘When Harry Met Sally’?”_ he asked, surprised.

“No,” she said.

“You should give it a try. It is an excellent film.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Maker, you’re not one of those guys who gets pretentious when they find out someone hasn’t seen every film ever, are you?”

“Far from it,” Solas protested. “I can barely keep up with current releases. And if I recall correctly, _you_ were the one who told me last week that it was--and I quote--a travesty I had not seen… what was it? Ah, yes. _‘Mean Girls’.”_

“That _is_ a travesty!” Elizabeth exclaimed. He chuckled. She found herself trying not to grin as she folded her arms defensively. _“Listen. ‘Mean Girls’_ is a classic. That’s a hill I will die on.” He seemed to be laughing with her, not at her, and she felt a little ashamed of her initial remark now. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested you were being pretentious.”

“At one point, suggesting that I was pretentious was a regular pastime of yours,” Solas said dryly.

“Well, yeah. Back when I thought you hated me.”

“Oh? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “I think because you were so outraged at me the first time we met.” Solas tilted his head, as if unable to place what she was referring to. “When we talked about magic and I said that the College could be a good thing.”

“Ah! No. I enjoyed discussing magic with you. Even if we disagreed.”

“Obviously. You’re doing this big favor for me, aren’t you?” She winced at herself. “Maker’s breath. And I can’t even act grateful.”

Solas’s expression shifted. “Elizabeth,” he said. “You do not need to change your behavior. I would not have offered to do this if….” He trailed off. He glanced at his folded hands, and sighed, seeming to come to a decision. “I have a confession. I am not only doing this as a favor to you. There are other reasons I suggested our arrangement.”

“What do you mean?”

He considered his words. “As you know, I am a writer. For the past year, I have been working on a piece regarding a particular vein of ancient elven magic--an article that could be groundbreaking, in today’s climate. It is meant to be published as a series. However, every periodical my agent queried has rejected it without consideration.”

“Oof,” Elizabeth said. “That’s rough.”

“Yes,” he said bitterly. “I… _suspect…_ that some of my old colleagues at the Inquisition have told the tale of my departure to friends in other industries. As the publishing world shares some overlap with the Inquisition, this may have hurt my chances of being published.” He met her gaze. “Either way, were I able to bury the hatchet with members of the Inquisition, it would vastly improve my present situation.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing. “So you want to talk to them at the wedding.”

“That is the goal, yes.”

“With whom, exactly?” she asked, curious.

His face became guarded--much like it had in the diner when she’d asked about his past. “Several people.”

“I'm not against it. I just meant that if you send me a list, I can tell you who’s coming. And I’ll do what I can to make sure we run into them at the resort.”

Solas looked surprised. “You're certain?”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

He studied her. “...thank you,” he said. “Will you be telling Jane?”

Elizabeth noted the caution in his voice. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I would prefer discretion, yes. If possible.”

Their drinks arrived. Elizabeth took a sip of her white wine and added, “But if I’m helping out, I do have one request.”

“Which is?”

“I’d like to read the article.”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “I am not sure the subject would be of interest you.”

Smirking, she paused, and then decided that if he was going to be honest with her, she should be honest with him. “Actually, it would. But that’s not the only reason. There’s also a chance I could help you.”

“In what regard?”

“One of my old instructors from the College writes for a magic based magazine. When I was her pupil, I used to do research and citation work for her. She approached me about continuing a few years ago, as a side job, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

“Really?” he asked. “Would I know of this magazine?”

“Possibly,” she said in a wry tone. She lowered her voice. “The Mage Collective.”

The look of shock on his face was incredibly satisfying. “You’ve done work for the Mage Collective.”

“Occasionally.”

“But… I thought you were pro-College.”

“I am,” Elizabeth said. “The College is a step in the right direction. They’re a compromise that can be adapted and changed in the future, into something better. I never argued that they are perfect.”

Solas sat back as he took in her words. “Who is the professor?” he asked.

“Her name is Fiona.”

 _“Grand Enchantress_ Fiona,” he said slowly, calling the woman by her previous title.

Elizabeth’s smile widened. “So you’re familiar with her.”

“Is anyone not?” he asked, letting out a baffled laugh. “That is remarkable. I am surprised you did not mention any of this last week.”

“Ah,” Elizabeth said, looking away. “Yes. Well.” She ran a finger around the edge of her wine glass. “Here’s the thing. It’s kind of a secret.”

“Why? You work for one of the most prominent mage publications in the industry. You should be proud.”

“I know. The Collective is wonderful, and I’m so fortunate I get to do some side work for a cause I believe in. But… _some people_ think they’re a little radical in their opinions. And I’m the only mage in my family. So bringing up magic--the old Circles, the College, _anything_ \--tends to end poorly.”

“You have mentioned that,” Solas said. “Who in your family knows?”

“No one.”

“Truly? No one? Not even Jane?”

She shook her head. “Not even Jane.”

“I was under the impression that you two were close.”

“We are. Very.”

He let his gaze drift in thought, then looked at her again. “Do you find that difficult? Not being honest with the people you love?”

“Sometimes. But I’d rather keep the life I have,” she explained. He didn’t reply immediately, instead staring at her with with a keen focus. She thought she could sense disapproval or judgement behind the curiosity, and she did not like it. She frowned at her wine. “I realize that might make me a hypocrite.”

“That is not what I meant,” Solas said. “I--.”

The waiter came by with their plates. Solas broke off. Once they were alone again, he started speaking again without touching his food.

“Perhaps I should rephrase,” he said. “Would you not be happier if you could be more open with them?”

“At the risk of losing them?”

“What makes you believe you would lose them?”

She sighed, wondering how to best explain. Looking down, she picked at her salad with her fork. An idea occurred to her. “Have you ever been the only mage in a group? Or talked to someone who hasn’t quite realized you were a mage yet?”

“Yes.”

“Imagine growing up like that. Like every time you say something, the conversation becomes political. In a way, being at the College was a relief. And I know it’s different in a lot of elven communities, but my family is Andrastean. So. There’s that, too.” Solas was silent. Finally, she glanced at him. His expression had softened, but he still looked as though he did not approve. “Or maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe I just don’t want to rock the boat. What do you think? You seem like a professional boat rocker. Are you saying there are never any consequences?” Something dark flashed across his face, and that made her reconsider her vehemence.  “Andraste. Sorry. I keep saying things that sound better in my head, and—”

“No,” Solas interrupted. “Do not apologize again. I led us onto this branch of conversation, and it is a fair point. After all, I myself am in a situation where the consequences _were_ dire.” He bowed his head slightly. “And you are correct, I did not take your upbringing, or your family’s religion, into account. It must be difficult to balance that.” He paused. “If I were to hazard a guess, however--you could probably tell Jane.”

“Probably,” she admitted. “Maybe I will tell her, some day.” She gave him a sad, wry grin. “There _has_ to be a happy medium between never telling anyone how you feel, ever, and giving your boss a three page long letter of resignation that details your thoughts on the company, on the day you quit.”

Solas laughed. He relaxed, his smile returning. “I had wondered if Jane told you about the letter. I admit, in hindsight, it was… poorly considered.”

“Believe me,” Elizabeth said. “I think everyone has fantasized about doing exactly what you did.”

Solas finally cut into his lamb. “In my defense, all of it was true.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Elizabeth said. She was relieved the brief moment of intensity was over. He was so hard to read whenever they talked about magic. “From some of the stories I hear, I’m amazed Jane has stayed. _I_ wouldn’t have lasted.”

He shot her a glance. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t think you would have.”

 

~

 

They spent the remainder of their dinner going through details about Elizabeth’s life that Solas should know--how old she was when her magic manifested, the names of some of her closest friends, what foreign places she’d been to and why. Elizabeth started to warn him about Lady Trevelyan, but held off on the worst stories. She always hated the looks of pity she got when she described her mother.

After they finished and paid, he drove her home, his hands in their requisite position on the wheel. She smiled to herself as she glanced at them. He flexed his fingers. Her eyes travelled higher, to his exposed forearm. The veins there twined down his arm in an attractive way, and they shifted prominently as he moved his hand.

“Oh,” she said out loud. She turned to face the road. “I’ve just realized a disadvantage to driving.”

“And that is?”

“Hugging goodbye will be awkward,” she said. There was a pause. “I mean, I know, it’s awkward anyway. I just think--”

“I understand.”

“--it’s important that we look physically comfortable with each other--”

“Yes, I agree.”

“--if we’re trying to portray two people who are… you know.”

“Together,” he said carefully, which was _much_ better than what she’d been on the verge of saying.

“Right.” She winced and looked away. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t said anything. Especially right after she’d ogled his arms.

“If you’d like, I can get out of the car, and—.”

She cut him off. “It’s fine. We’ll skip tonight. There’s never parking by me anyway. Next time, we’ll do it before we get in the car.”

“As you wish.”

They drove on. Elizabeth scanned her mind for something more to say. Unfortunately, nothing seemed appropriate, and so she was left staring out the window at pools of passing lamplight. Somehow, she could tell the silence wasn’t comfortable for him, either.

“Where would you like to eat next week?” he asked finally. “It only seems fair for you to choose the next one.”

“I actually know a place by Jane. They do a good brunch.”

“Ah. Would you prefer to meet for brunch next time?”

“I mean, if that’s okay. I don’t want to eat up your weekend time.”

Solas smiled thinly. “I am a writer. My schedule is fluid.”

“That’s right,” Elizabeth said. “Okay,  sure. Brunch it is.”

 

~

 

Solas was relieved that Elizabeth had picked a brunch spot. Meeting in a bright, open space during the day would certainly be better than another night of wine and candlelight. Unlike her, he had not thought to search for the restaurant online beforehand, and so had been surprised to find the atmosphere so… _intimate_.

Felassan was the one who’d recommended it. That made Solas suspicious that the choice was intentional. At their next lunch, his agent had asked _—far_ too innocently—how dinner had gone, in between supplying him with a handful of rejection letters and buying Solas’s sandwich. While Solas did tell him that things had gone well, he did not mention how much he was looking forward to seeing her again.

Nor did he mention that her eyes had been as distracting by candlelight as they had at the diner, if not more so. That seemed to him wholly unnecessary.

But brunch was not meant to be—not that week, in any case. On Friday, Solas went to bed with bad allergies, and on Saturday, he woke up with a head cold. He immediately emailed Elizabeth so that she could arrange other plans, if she so wished.

To his surprise, his phone rang that evening at seven, and her number came up. Confused, he cleared his throat and answered. “Hello?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Not much improved, I’m afraid,” he told her. “It is the frustrating sort of sickness where I am too ill to perform my regular tasks, yet too well to avoid feeling bored.”

“That’s too bad. Lots of fluids? Tea?”

He’d muted the TV and sat back on his couch. “Fluids, yes. Tea, no. I do not drink tea.”

“What? Not even chamomile?”

“No.”

“Huh,” she said. “Well, maybe soup or something then. Do you have some?”

“I had some earlier. I keep red pepper tomato bisque in the pantry for exactly this purpose.”

“Good.” She hesitated. “Is there anything I can do?”

He felt a little touched that she’d think to offer. “Ah. No.”

“I’m not asking because the wedding is in two weeks, I’m asking because I think this is my fault. Something was going around my school last week. I’m always getting people sick, even if I don’t get sick myself. Ellendra calls me Typhoid Mary.”

“That is hardly your fault.”

“Tell that to Ellendra,” she said with a huff. “So I can’t bring you anything?”

“No. I would not want to…. Well. I was about to say I would not want to give it to you right before the wedding, but it sounds as though Ellendra would be the victim in this scenario.”

Elizabeth laughed. “True. Hey, I could slip something into your mailbox.”

He smiled, though she could not see it. “Perhaps that would be unwise. Everything you have offered me _thus_ far has been liquid.”

“Good point. If you’re bored, I can bring you some books. Or magazines. I have some old copies of the Collective laying around.”

His eyes went back to his TV. “It is kind of you to offer. But I am all set. I was going to watch a movie.”

 _“‘Mean Girls?’”_ She asked, and he could hear the fact that she was grinning. “It better be _‘Mean Girls’.”ˆ_

“It is not _‘Mean Girls’._ Unless that turns out to be on, currently.”

“Isn’t it on Netflix?”

“It may be. But, when I am ill, I tend to go back to television. Old habits, I suppose. When it comes to entertainment, there is something comforting about limited choices.”

He heard a noise in the background, the sudden cheering of a sports game or perhaps a concert muffled through speakers. “Well, you’re in luck because I’m about to limit your options even more. I don’t even pay for a full package.”

Solas was surprised. “Ah. Are we watching something together now?”

“Yes. You’re bored, you owe me a date this weekend, and I have nothing else going on tonight,” she said. Solas caught that she’d called their meetings dates, and nearly corrected her, but she went on, “Oh, here we go. Channel 13. _‘Wizard of Oz’.”_

 _‘“The Wizard of Oz’?_ Really?”

“Oh, come on. You don’t like this one? Glinda! She’s got to be the first positive mage portrayal in film, right?

“Glinda is not a mage,” he said as he went to Channel 13 and turned his volume back on, this time softer. It was early on in the film—Dorothy was still on a brown farm, arguing with Auntie Em.

“Of course she is,” she said. “They call her the Good Witch, don’t they?”

“Yes. Presumably because it is a concept that Dorothy can understand. Much like how the spirit of Knowledge appears as a Scarecrow, the spirit of Love appears as a Tinman, and the spirit of Courage appears as a Lion.”

 _“Oh.”_ She sounded amused. “You think Oz is in the Fade.”

“It clearly is. However, all films produced in Hollywood needed to be to code at the time. They could not explicitly state anything related to the Fade in the film.”

“Hm. Okay,” she mused, and he heard something shift on her side. “Then riddle me this, Batman: why is the Courage spirit cowardly?”

“The spirits have been under the control of a demon for some time. Dorothy defeats it when her house kills it. It took the form of the Witch of the East. Now that it is dead, the three spirits have a chance to reclaim their true purpose. They do so by guiding Dorothy safely to her destination.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” she said.

“Less than you would think,” he said. “Do you not see the parallels?”

“I mean, now, yeah. Okay, so what’s the deal with the Wicked Witch of the West and Dorothy’s shoes?”

“A euphemism. Walking in a person’s shoes is a well known metaphor for living through that person's experiences. The Witch of the West is trying to possess her.”

“Makes sense. And the monkeys?”

“Fearlings, most likely.”

Elizabeth’s voice went flat with skepticism. “Dorothy’s afraid of monkeys?”

“Evidently. Flying ones, at a bare minimum.”

She let out a little laugh that was low and felt close to his ear. “Okay, I’ll give you the fearlings. What about the poppy fields?”

“Most likely the Witch of the West is a sloth demon. Once they cross into its realm, it is able to subdue them, using its powers.”

“How official is all this?” she wondered, sounding a little impressed.

“Not official at all.”

“Do you do this with other movies?”

“From time to time. Particularly with older films, when they could not show spirits being helpful. Often, they are portrayed in other ways. As ghosts, or animals, or angels.”

“Or scarecrows.”

“Or scarecrows,” he agreed. 

“Yeah. I guess you grew up before Harry Potter.”

Solas chuckled. “Oh, _we_ _ll_ before Harry Potter. Ah—one moment, I….” He put down the phone and managed to wrestle the last tissue out of his box before sneezing hard.

“Bless you,” she said when he returned. “Am I making you talk too much? I don’t want to make you sicker.”

“No, this is fine.” It was more than fine, in fact, but he did not admit that out loud.

“Good. Okay, wait, so what about the Wizard? What’s his deal? He doesn’t act like a spirit or a demon.”

“Well,” Solas said adjusting to lie back down, “either he is a powerful Dreamer, one who has befriended spirits by offering them knowledge from this realm. Or he is a very old spirit who took the form of a man, and is perhaps more man than spirit now.”

Elizabeth processed that quietly. “Spirits can do that?”

“At times, yes,” Solas said carefully. He realized he may have gone a step too far with this subject. It was easy to answer her questions without thinking, especially with medication muddling his mind. “Jane and I worked with one such spirit. Did she not tell you?”

“Oh. _Cole._ Of course. That makes so much sense. Jane could never explain what he was to me.” Solas began to correct her—it was more a matter of _who_ he was than what—but then the screen focused on Dorothy. “Over The Rainbow!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “This part’s my favorite.”

So he fell quiet.

For some time, they watched together quietly, with the occasional comment from Elizabeth, and one break for Solas to get more tissues. When the tornado ended, and Dorothy opened the door to a world of color, Solas somehow found the scene more charming than he had remembered.

“So the sepia becoming color—that’s her entering the Fade?” she asked, the sound of her distant voice dragging him back.

“Was that sepia?” Solas asked dryly. “I was under the impression that is simply what Ferelden looks like.”

He smiled at hearing her laugh again. “You can’t make jokes like that at the wedding,” she warned him. “Cullen’s family is _very_ Ferelden.”

“Then I shall restrain myself.”

Their conversation ebbed and flowed as the action on screen changed. Elizabeth asked several more questions, some pertaining to his thoughts on the movie, and others about the Fade in general. There were patches of comfortable silence, during which Solas appreciated the warmth of the phone against his ear. The faint static and noises from her end reminded him he was not alone. But it was evening, and he was still unwell. He was fading quickly. By the time a stunned Dorothy learned that she could have returned home at any point, Solas was stifling yawns. One managed to escape, and despite him pulling his phone from his ear, Elizabeth heard it.

“I should probably let you go,” she said sympathetically. He was too tired to disagree. “Get some rest, okay? I hope the movie helped.”

“It did,” he said. “Thank you.”

As he crawled into bed, he decided that perhaps it had not been the movie that helped. In fact, if anything, he wished he could have spoken to her a little longer. That he could have made her laugh one more time, or answered one more question. 

The call had ended mere minutes ago. Already, he realized, he missed her.

 

~

 

In the morning, with an only slightly clearer head, Solas was concerned.

He missed her.

To say that Solas found such an observation troubling would be putting it mildly. The thought of being around her for a full night, pretending to be in a relationship, had given him a strange sense of apprehension for weeks now. In fact, whenever he looked forward on his calendar, he felt a tightening in his chest. Previously, he’d attributed that to concern at pulling off the deception, or the presence of his old colleagues, but _now…_. Now he had to acknowledge there was some other element at play--an element he did not wish to look at too carefully.  

Solas was not a young man. He was self-aware enough to recognize that, given his ambitions and choices, romance was not in the cards for him. Least of all with a young human whose sister was a senior vice president in an organization aligned with the Chantry. After the scandal of having a human child had sunk Mythal’s career as an advocate, ages ago, he knew matters of the heart would never work in his favor.

But, as the day went on, that did not stop him from imagining what it would be like.

He remembered the sight of her, waiting for him outside her building. Her smile when she leaned down to greet him. He imagined having someone waiting for him like that every day, bringing a flurry of laughter and conversation into his life. He considered what it would be like to uncover the rest of her quirks and proclivities, to learn all these facts about her the usual way: by spending time with her.

He imagined what it would be like if these were real dates—perhaps she would have kissed his cheek when she hugged him that first night, and perhaps at the Antivan restaurant, he would have given in to the impulse to cover her hand with his own. He wondered what it would be like to have been able to more openly admire her—his gaze had kept returning to her legs that night, when it was not focused on her eyes.

He pictured looking down into those small, brown eyes, of cupping her face into his hands as she stared up at him with something like desire, and—.

Solas stopped himself.

Felassan may have been right, he thought with a frown: part of the appeal of this whole arrangement was that he could, for a small moment, pretend that things were different.  

But that could not be the case. He was simply lonely, and Elizabeth was a pretty woman. So he pushed those thoughts away and focused on his illness. The medication was likely making his thoughts drift. It was just one more dinner, and then one night at the wedding, and then it would be over.

He would not think of her that way again.

At seven, despite knowing she had no reason call again, he found himself hopefully glancing at his phone.

 

~

 

Their final dinner was scheduled to be on the Wednesday before Elizabeth left for the resort with her family. Solas would join them on Saturday. But on Tuesday, while he was eating lunch with Felassan, she called him, sounding panicked.

“Is that her?” Felassan asked in a stage whisper. Solas ignored him.

“I can’t meet tomorrow night,” she said. Wherever she was calling from was loud, with more than one voice in the background. Solas held his other ear closed for a moment to hear better. “Lydia was in a car accident.”

“Has she been injured?” Solas asked, concerned.

“She’s fine, thank the Maker. A bump on the head. But her car is totaled. We won’t have time to reschedule dinner, so I wanted to let you know.”

“Of course,” Solas said. “I understand. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” Felassan asked him, and Solas shushed him.

“One sec,” she said. Her voice became more distant. “No,” she was telling someone else. “Tell Mama that those are for people who have _actual emergencies.”_ The other person gave a muffled response, and Elizabeth said, “Fine. I’ll be right there.” She returned to Solas. “Crap. I never prepped you for Mama.”

“It will be fine,” Solas assured her. “Worry about your sister.” He remembered something. “Were you not meant to drive to the wedding with Lydia?” Their parents' car and Jane’s car were each filled with necessary items for the wedding, and the other sister’s car had no room for four people and all their luggage.

Elizabeth groaned in frustration. “I know. There’s a spot for one of us in Kitty’s car, but I think they’ll offer it to Lydia to make sure she doesn’t try to drive down herself. I might have to rent something.”

A thought occurred to Solas. Again, that sense of apprehension sparked in his chest. Like the feeling of being on the edge of a high cliff, or the platform of a station as a speeding train shot by. An enjoyable yet contained sense of danger.

 _Danger._  That was an apt word for the situation.

He glanced at Felassan, then away. “I could drive you down Thursday,” he offered. Peripherally, he saw Felassan shift, curiosity radiating off of him. Solas could feel him staring.  “That way we would have time to discuss your mother, and you’d have a ride.”

There was a pause. All he could hear were the sounds of what he now assumed was a hospital. “Are you sure?” Her voice sounded doubtful. “I mean, that would triple your time there—.”

“I have no upcoming plans,” he assured her. “And it would give me more time to me to speak with some of your sister’s colleagues.” Felassan snorted. Solas turned further away from him. “The ones who are arriving early.” 

“That’s true,” she said. Another pause. Solas gripped his phone tightly. He was not sure whether he was hoping she’d say yes, or hoping she’d say no. “Alright,” she said slowly. “Yeah. That could work. As long as you’re fine with it.”

“I am. But if I am to depart on a four day trip on Thursday, I will need to prepare myself. What time do you need to be at the resort?”

“Any time before 5.”

Solas did some quick math. The drive was simple enough. It was half an hour to the ferry, an hour at sea, and then another forty-five minutes through Ferelden. “Then I will pick you up at 2:30 on Thursday.”

“Great,” she said, sounding relieved. “And thank you so, so much. Honestly, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“It is no trouble,” Solas said.

As the call ended, he stood. This time, he was the one who threw a pair of bills on the table. He finally looked at Felassan, who was smirking and had crossed his arms.

Solas glared at him. “Not a word,” he said, turning toward the exit. He left without glancing back.

“Text me!” Felassan called after him. His ensuing laugh followed Solas out into the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The whole Wizard of Oz bit is from a conversation I had over a year ago with either Tress13 or ButtOnTheBeach (or very possibly both) about musicals that should be adapted into Thedas. Broadway and Thedas are totally an aesthetic. Oh, and the [Hays Code](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motion_Picture_Production_Code), which Solas briefly alludes to, actually DID exist, except it covered sex, LGBT groups, and treating the Church nicely. [Here are some examples](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/UsefulNotes/TheHaysCode). In one hilarious case, you could not ridicule clergymen, so Mr. Collins in the 1940 adaptation of Pride & Prejudice became a librarian. I figure in Modern Thedas they would have covered mages, too. 
> 
> 2\. Is Solas immortal in this AU? Is he thousands of years old, or 47? Will I be forced to come down one side or the other before the fic is over? Was giving him a POV a mistake, given that I have no idea? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ We shall see!


	4. there's no place i'd rather be

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the suitcase on her bed, her hands on her hips. Despite having packed the night before, she had that age-old feeling that she was forgetting something. In the past half hour, she’d added a second hoodie (Ferelden could get cold at night, even in the summer), and then removed the second hoodie (they’d only be there three nights, one of which was the wedding). She chewed her lip, wondering if she should add it back. They were probably called the Frostback Mountains for good reason.

Her buzzer sounded. Surprised, she checked her watch, then headed to the intercom. She held down the button that opened the front door to her building. A moment later, there was a sharp knock at her door.

Solas was standing in her hallway. “You’re early,” she told him as she opened the door.

“Yes. I found a parking spot much sooner than I expected.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “How is your sister?”

“Lydia?” Elizabeth asked. “Or Jane?”

“I meant Lydia.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I assume Jane is in her element. As I recall, she thrives under pressure.”

Elizabeth grinned. That was true enough. “Lydia’s fine, thanks. I mean, she’s an idiot. She needed a few stitches. But otherwise, she’s fine.” She grimaced. “She won’t admit it, but I’m pretty sure she was texting and driving.”

“Ah,” Solas said. “Then I hope this will be a lesson for her.”

“You and me both.” She gestured at her apartment, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

“Thank you.”

As they stepped inside, he glanced around the room curiously. She followed his gaze, seeing her place with the fresh eyes of a visitor. Judging by his car and his clothing, Solas struck her as someone who took note of decor. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was not. Her taste hardly ever escaped the cross section between functional and brightly colored. Jane had helped her with the living room, thank the Maker, so he could find nothing to complain about there at least. It was painted a light grey with black furniture, and a black and white rug. A vase of fake pink flowers sat in the middle of her coffee table.

She headed toward her bedroom, talking as she went. “Thanks again for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Solas said from the living room. 

“I just need to finish packing.” When he did not follow, she added, “You can come back here, if you’d like.” 

She heard him join her, pausing in the doorway. The bedroom was more her style. The walls were painted a mustard yellow, and she’d hung a few patterned drapes above her bed. There was an oversized crossword puzzle on the far wall. Solas approached it, tilting his head to look at the clues. 

“A present from Kitty,” she explained. 

“I see. You have not filled it in yet.”

“No. I just keep it for decoration.” 

“That must be quite the temptation,” he said with a thin smile.

“You have no idea,” she said. “At least I’m putting those College classes about willpower to good use.”

Solas chuckled, moving on to look at the pictures on her dresser. Elizabeth went back to her suitcase. She did not like bringing four pairs of shoes on a four day trip, but there was no helping it. She needed the boots she wore now for the woods and sandals for the lake. On top of that, she had to bring two pairs of heels—one for the rehearsal dinner, and another for the wedding itself. She wondered if she shouldn’t add in a pair of flats. The thought of dancing in heels made her feet ache. With a reluctant sigh, she went to the closet.

“These are your sisters?” Solas asked. 

She glanced over her shoulder. He was holding up a picture from their father’s sixtieth birthday, a few years earlier. “Yes,” she said. She dropped her flats into the suitcase and went to stand next to him. He already knew her and Jane; pointing, she named the others. “Mary. Lydia. Kitty.”

He studied it for a moment. “Kitty looks remarkably like you.”

“We take after our father,” she explained. She checked the outer pocket of her bag to make sure she’d packed a comb. She had. “Jane and Lydia look like Mama,” she said. “Mary’s a mix of both.”

“Ah.”

She looked at her closet. Instead of grabbing the second hoodie, she slipped on an embroidered jean jacket that she had not worn since spring. Solas gave it a look that she chose to interpret as neutral, aware that he was wearing a nice sports coat and a button-up. Again. She felt underdressed in her khaki shorts and t-shirt. 

“Alright,” she said. “I’m ready, I think.”

He put down the picture. “Is last minute packing a common occurrence for you?

“Yes. And  _ yes,  _ I’ve tried making lists before. Turns out they just make me more confident in leaving something behind.” She zipped up her suitcase and swung her garment bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.” He held out his hand. She raised her eyebrows. He glanced at her suitcase. “That’s very chivalrous of you, but this thing has wheels. I’m good.”

“Allow me to carry something. Please.”

After a beat, she handed him the garment bag. Together, they made their way downstairs, to his car. Elizabeth placed her purple suitcase next to Solas’s leather duffle bag in the trunk, as he hung the garment bag next to his own in the backseat. He was already waiting in the driver’s seat when she got in on the passenger side. 

“I hope the weather will hold,” he said, glancing skyward at a scattering of gray clouds. “The forecast for Ferelden looks more promising. Although the mountains are known for sudden shifts in--”

“Oh!” Elizabeth interrupted. “Wait, give me a second.” She unbuckled herself and ran back inside. A few minutes later, she re-emerged, stuffing one last item into her purse. “Sorry,” she said, climbing back into the car.

“Forget something?” 

“Clear nail polish,” she replied. He raised one questioning eyebrow. She fastened her seatbelt. “Don’t give me that look. It’s very useful. It can make a manicure last twice as long, fix a run in pantyhose, stop a nice pair of shoes from scuffing….”

“I had no idea it was so multifaceted,” he said dryly. 

“That’s just the tip of iceberg,” she said. “Did you know that putting it on matches makes them waterproof?”

“I did not.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Truly, the swiss army knives of cosmetics.”

She gave him a mock-serious glare. “You laugh now, but if we get stuck in a storm, guess whose matches would work?” He appeared to be trying to hide a smile. She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I am trying to imagine a scenario in which two mages would require waterproof matches to start a fire.”

Elizabeth winced. “Ah,” she said carefully. “Yeah. So. About that. I guess this is as good a time as any to mention that it would be…  _ better… _ if neither of us used any magic this weekend. Especially in front of my mother. She’s not a fan. Neither is my sister, Mary. Or my cousin, John. Even my father takes issue with it, occasionally.” Solas didn’t reply. She glanced at him, noting that his smile had disappeared. “Sorry,” she offered. “I should have said something. My family’s a little conservative.”

“So you have mentioned.” He started the car. 

“Will that be a problem?” she asked, still apologetic. 

“I do not think so,” he said. His tone was casual, but his expression remained dark. They’d reached the end of her block. “To be honest, it is not something I’ve had to consider before.”

“What, ever?” she asked, surprised. Most mages had had to downplay their power at some point or another. 

“No.”

“Well,” she said. “You’re in for a treat, then.” She crossed her arms, her nerves tightening. “You still have about two hours to back out, you know.” He huffed, unamused, which made her wince. “I’m serious. I could say you came down with something. That was the original plan, anyway.” He was silent, so she added, “No one would hold it against you.”

“Not true,” he told her. Glancing at her, he smiled faintly. “I would hold it against myself. I told you I would come. And I pride myself on being a man of my word.”

Elizabeth studied his face a moment longer. His eyes stayed on the road this time, but he did look resolved. “Alright,” she said, turning to her window. “Then I guess we should talk about Mama.”

  
  


~

 

They covered Mrs. Trevelyan’s weaker points in the car ride to the ferry. Besides the no magic rule—which Elizabeth tried to stress really  _ was _ non-negotiable—she also warned him again about her mother’s racism. Upon hearing that Jane was by and far her favorite child, Solas actually let out a laugh. 

“So,” he said with dark humor, “she dislikes elves, dislikes mages, and knows that I once put her beloved eldest daughter in a difficult position.” He shook his head. “How exactly was it decided that _ I  _ would be the ideal candidate for this role?”

“Lydia,” Elizabeth explained simply. 

Solas tapped his wheel. “Well. Lydia’s judgment seems consistent at least.”

Elizabeth frowned. She felt a ripple of something—a need to defend her sister, maybe—but he wasn’t wrong. It was something she herself would have said in other circumstances.

Once they’d dropped the car off with a ferry attendant, they went to the main deck. Solas looked even more dour than he had half an hour ago. Elizabeth could not help but feel this whole thing was a giant mistake. 

“Do you want to have a back-up plan?” she asked. He looked at her blankly, so she said, “In case you change your mind. Like, you can give me a signal, and we can get someone to call your phone with a fake emergency.”

He looked out over the Waking Sea. “I doubt that will be necessary.”

“If you say so,” she said. She felt an urge to apologize again, but he’d already waved off her apologies in the car. She turned around and leaned against the railing, letting the sea breeze tossle her hair. “Oh. We should talk about touching as well. I think we’re a little behind on our hug quota.” 

“Ah,” he said without looking at her. “Yes.”

She peered at his face, which was unreadable. Fortunately, she had never been one to display her affection publicly; however, in the few moments where physical interaction was necessary, they could not appear unaccustomed to it at all. 

“I don’t think we’ll have to kiss,” she added. A flicker of surprise crossed his face as he turned his head to look at her. “Maybe just on the cheek or something? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He studied her face, then looked away again. “Your concern is appreciated. But I will be fine. Do whatever feels natural.”

Nothing felt natural, not after that car ride. But she tried to think what she would have done if she were here with one of her exes. Dawson, maybe. She turned again to face the water, so that they were now side by side. Hesitantly, she reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. 

“Like this?” she asked. “Is that alright?”

He glanced down at their hands, then offered her a weak smile. “It is.”

She sighed, relieved. “Good.” She squeezed his hand. “One thing down, then.”

“One thing down,” he agreed.

 

~

 

Due to the surprisingly pleasant time Solas had spent with Elizabeth prior to their journey, he had almost managed to forget that interacting with her family would reportedly be quite difficult. Luckily, their car ride had disabused him of the notion that he was in any danger of enjoying himself. To spend  _ four days  _ without  _ any magic—. _ It was almost unthinkable. 

Mentally, he made a note to text Felassan. Whatever fragile bubble of feelings had surfaced when he was ill,  _ surely  _ it had been stamped out by this discovery--that Elizabeth would compromise who she was as a person in order to please her family. Felassan may have correctly identified that Solas was attracted to her, but even  _ he  _ would have to admit that nothing could douse those flames more quickly than regressive opinions about magic. 

But then she’d mentioned kissing. And then she’d held his hand. And as she looked out over the ocean, her loose curls tangling in the wind, he wondered how often she had to go through something like this—how many times per year was she reduced to pretending to be something she was not? It hurt to consider.

He was no longer certain he was out of danger.

The third leg of the journey was quiet. He could tell Elizabeth was nervous; the feeling was contagious. Not only would he be meeting her family, he would also be seeing several of the Inquisition members, some for the first time in years. By the time his car was crunching over a gravel road toward the resort’s parking lot, he felt something that bordered on regret. And, worse, he suspected she knew. 

There was no reason to make Elizabeth suffer. And the longer he dwelt on his mixed emotions, the more uncomfortable she seemed to become. Other than pointing out a space, Elizabeth let him park in silence. The two of them got out and followed signs with green balloons that read ‘Rutherford/Trevelyan Wedding’, through a wooded path. 

Solas watched Elizabeth bite her lip. He reflected that he could make more of an effort to be supportive. He opened his mouth. 

“Lizzie!” a voice called out before he could speak. A blonde woman in white shorts who looked a bit like Jane was waving further down the trail. Solas took in her appearance. By the stitches on her forehead, she would be Lydia. She seemed very cheerful for a girl who’d been in a car accident less than 48 hours ago, grinning brightly as she approached. “You made it!” She glanced over at him. “Oh. You’re Solas.”

“I am,” he said.

“I like your jacket,” she said. 

That surprised him. “Thank you.”

“Where is everyone?” Elizabeth asked. “I thought there was going to be a barbecue meet and greet.”

“There is. By the lake. Wait until you see! It’s great. Come on, I’ll take you to your bungalow.”

Lydia bounced off, and Elizabeth shrugged at Solas before following her. A moment later, they broke through a clearing and saw the view. “Oh,” Elizabeth breathed, coming to a halt. 

It  _ was _ stunning. The clouds had cleared, and the lake glittered in the golden afternoon sun. The grass and trees were that vibrant green that could only come after a period of intense rain. At the far end of the lake, a small group of swans honked at each other, elegantly dipping their long necks into the water. Beyond the lake, several mountains rose, covered with more trees. 

“Right?” Lydia said, grinning. “You guys want to get a paddleboat?” 

Elizabeth shook her head. “We should go to the meet and greet.”

“Oh, it’s super casual. I don’t think Jane will mind if you’re late.”

“We still have our bags,” Elizabeth said. “You mentioned something about a bungalow?”

“Yeah,” Lydia said. “This way!”

She guided them to a row of little white houses with red roofs and doors, to the west of the lake. Each group of three had their own little dock sticking out of the reeds. The effect was charming. 

“Let’s see—number seven! This one is yours. The keys are under the mat. Come find us when you’re settled. Cullen’s building a bonfire,” she told them, nodding in the other direction. She winced. “Well. Cullen’s  _ trying _ to build a bonfire.”

“We’ll be there in a bit,” Elizabeth said. She glanced over her sister, her eyes lingering on her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I’m fine,  _ Mom.”  _ Her gaze slid back to Solas. “Speaking of which. You guys are standing, like, five feet apart from each other. It’s super awkward. You might want to fix that before someone sees you.” Solas and Elizabeth exchanged a glance and stepped a little closer. Lydia snorted. “Yeah.  _ That _ worked. Just… try to act natural.” She retreated, waving a hand over her shoulder. “See you later, lovebirds.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Let’s find that key,” she told Solas. 

Once inside, Solas was relieved to see a couch by the fireplace. But when he went to place his bag on it, he realized the couch was not full-sized. It was more of a loveseat. Elizabeth followed his gaze. 

“Don’t worry, I can sleep there,” she said. “I’m shorter.”

Solas gave her a look. “No. I will not make you sleep on a couch the week of your sister’s wedding.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“I insist,” he said firmly. “I will be fine.”

She seemed doubtful. She looked around the room. “We can figure it out later. I think the bed’s big enough for both of us, anyway.”

Solas frowned, glancing at the bed in question. That seemed like a dangerous road to travel. But Elizabeth had already started to unpack a few cosmetics and was heading to the bathroom

“I’m going to freshen up,” she said. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Solas paused, next to the small couch. He hesitated. Then he picked up his bag and placed it on the bed. 

 

~

 

Once they were finished, they went and found the rest of Elizabeth’s family. There was an area by the lake with a grill and several picnic tables. A cooler of beer and soda had been set out. Cullen was indeed in front of a firepit, grimacing at an unlit pile of dark wood. Beside him was a young man who carried himself with similar casual authority--the other templar, Solas assumed. 

Aware of Lydia’s advice, Solas stepped closer to Elizabeth and placed a hand on the small of her back as they approached. She looked up, surprised, but then her face settled into a warm smile. He found himself returning it. Some of the awkwardness from the car ride had eased. 

“Lizzie!” Jane exclaimed as they approached. She pulled her sister in for a hug, while various people eyed Solas with interest. “How was the drive?”

“Oh, it was fine,” Elizabeth said brightly.

Elizabeth’s mother--the woman he’d met at the mall--came up and gave him a large, tight embrace that was completely unexpected. Over her shoulder, he could see Cullen holding back a chuckle. Presumably, the man had been on the receiving end of such behavior in the past. 

“Solas!” Mrs. Trevelyan said warmly. “It’s so good to see you again. How have you been?”

“I have been well, thank you,” he said.

A middle-aged man with tufts of blonde-white hair and a weathered but handsome face held out his hand. “Bertram Trevelyan,” he said. “Elizabeth’s father. Call me Bert, everyone else does.”

A short young man with darker skin stood next. “It keeps people from getting too confused,” he said good-naturedly. He waved. “Hi.  _ Also  _ Bertram Trevelyan. Elizabeth’s cousin.”

“I promise that’s the end of the Bertrams,” Mr. Trevelyan said.  _ “Daughters, _ on the other hand, I have in abundance.”

“Dad,” Elizabeth laughed. She gestured at another man who was clearly Bertram’s older brother; he was speaking in hushed tones with a girl of about five, a few yards away from the rest of the party. “That’s John. And his daughter Phoebe. This is Kitty. And you know Jane, and Cullen, of course.” 

“Hello,” he said as politely as possible. 

“Delrin Barris,” the second templar said, extending his hand. “Kitty’s boyfriend.” He cracked a grin. “You should take notes. There’ll be a quiz later, once the Rutherfords show up.”

“Would you like a beer?” Cullen asked.

“Hey!” Lydia said. “You didn’t offer me any beer.”

Solas accepted the drink as Cullen grabbed a second bottle for Lydia. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. Solas noted that Mr. and Mrs. Trevelyan had wandered away to admire the lake; John was taking his daughter toward a group of ducks. 

“Where’s Mary and Laurence?” Elizabeth asked. 

“Mary’s paddleboating with her  _ beau,”  _ Lydia said, waggling her eyebrows. “You’re gonna flip when you see him. He’s almost Dad’s age.” She glanced at Solas. “Not that you have any room to talk, I guess.”

Bertram rolled his eyes, laughing. “Let it never be said the Trevelyans are a tactful bunch,” he told Solas. He turned to Elizabeth. “And if I had to guess, I’d say Laurence is in the kitchen, talking up the head chef.”

Kitty piped up. “We made the mistake of sending him to get marshmallows.” She frowned at Cullen. “Not that there’s a fire to roast them over.”

“The wood is too damp,” Cullen told her. He peered over his shoulder to see how far away the Trevelyans and John were before shooting a quick look at Elizabeth. “You wouldn’t mind…?” He raised an eyebrow. “Would you?”

“Oh, yes, Lizzie,” Jane said. “Please help. They’ve been at it for almost forty minutes with no luck whatsoever.”

Solas relaxed slightly. He was pleased to see not all of Elizabeth’s family were judgmental, particularly the two people he already thought well of. Elizabeth looked like she was going to argue with them, but when Jane gave her a pleading stare, she relented. “Fine,” she said. “But if I get in trouble, I’m blaming you two.” She stepped closer and gestured at the wood. Smoke began to curl between the sticks. A thin flame appeared. She dropped her hand and stepped back. “There.”

“Thank you,” Cullen said. 

“Don’t mention it,” Elizabeth told him. She glanced back at her mother. “Like, literally don’t.”

“Well,” Bertram said, wiping his hands together. “That’s my cue to go find my husband. Or marshmallows. Whichever I stumble upon first. Wish me luck.”

Cullen stroked his chin as Bertram left. “Shouldn’t the real food be here by now?”

“Well, if Laurence is chatting with the head chef, maybe there’s a delay,” Elizabeth said.

Jane agreed. “The main house might know something.”

“Lizzie!” a child’s voice called out before anyone could respond, excited. Solas turned to see that John and his daughter were approaching. “Did you get to feed the ducks yet?”

Elizabeth squatted, tucking a hair out of Phoebe’s face. “No! Do you want to show me how?”

Phoebe dragged Elizabeth away with as much force as a girl her size could. “Yes!”

“Don’t go too far, kiddo,” her father warned. He eyed Solas with a touch of suspicion before sticking out his hand. “Hi there. John Trevelyan.”

“Solas.”

John waited for a last name, but realized one wasn’t forthcoming. “Right. Good to meet you,” he said in a manner that implied the opposite. Solas instantly did not like him. He opened a beer and glanced after his daughter and Elizabeth. “So how’d you two meet?”

Apparently, the cousins were not in on the secret. “I used to work with Jane,” Solas said. 

“Oh,” John said, somewhat surprised. “For the Inquisition? Huh. Sorry. I, uh, thought Aunt Fanny mentioned you were….” He motioned vaguely. “You know.” Solas did not answer, letting the man flounder for a moment. “A mage.”

“I am,” Solas said. John looked even more baffled, but Solas did not wish to engage further. He turned back to Cullen and Jane, who were still debating dinner. “If you need someone to find the food, I would be happy to help.”

“Oh,” Jane exclaimed. “Thank you!” She nodded at where Bertram had disappeared. “The main building’s up that way. I’m sure they’ll be able to point you in the right direction.”

Cullen smirked. “Just say it’s for the bride.”

“Oh, I don’t want to play that card,” Jane said with a laugh. 

Solas smiled and left, not looking at John again. 

 

~

 

By the time he returned, followed by two staff members and an array of barbecue accoutrements, the sun was beginning to dip behind the mountains, and a fresh batch of faces had joined the group. One large man trying to put out burning marshmallows on Phoebe’s stick was Bertram’s husband, Laurence. A fifth Trevelyan sister had also appeared, accompanied by a bearded man called Thom. A tall brunette introduced herself as Mia, Cullen’s older sister; her husband and two children were playing by the lake. Cullen’s younger siblings--Rosalie and Branson--were introduced in unison.

While he’d been gone, Solas noticed that Branson had angled himself to share a log with Elizabeth. Solas ended up sitting with Lydia, whose girlfriend would not arrive until the next day. Still, he could not help but watch Branson and Elizabeth as they spoke. Something about the wide grins and little jokes that he shot her way during dinner bothered Solas; he was not in a position to be jealous, of course, but there was no way  _ Branson _ could know that. He was trying to figure out if he should say something when Lydia caught him staring. 

“Oh, I know,” she murmured in a conspiratorial tone. “He’s had a crush on her for ages. She doesn’t see it, though.”

Solas digested that information as he nursed his beer. When the last of the sunlight faded, Branson finally got up to help Cullen clean off the grill. Solas noticed Elizabeth rub her arms over her jean jacket. He slipped into the spot beside her, offering her his sports coat. 

She blinked at him, surprised, before giving him a small smile. “Thank you.” She slipped it over her outfit as her nose wrinkled. “I  _ knew _ I should have packed something warmer.” She glanced around the campfire. He did the same. Several of the revellers had left. Denny and Kitty were holding hands; Jane was leaning back against Cullen; Laurence had Bertram’s head in his lap. Elizabeth must have felt the situation called for something. She leaned her head on his shoulder, exhaling.

Solas stiffened. The faint yearning sensation he’d felt the night they watched Wizard of Oz returned. He tried to swallow it back. But when he glanced down to see her resting with her eyes closed, he knew it was a lost cause. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, not wanting to lapse back into silence, as he had in the car. 

She mumbled something affirmative. “You're warm. Don’t let me fall asleep,” she yawned. 

Solas smiled. “And how am I to manage that?”

She huffed, pulling his coat tighter around her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” After a beat, he moved to pull her closer, reminding himself they had an audience. He traced his fingers up and down her arm. She opened her eyes and gave him a grumpy stare. “Not helping. That’ll put me to sleep.”

Even with her frown, he was very aware how close they were to one another. The fire had painted her eyes black and endless. His mouth felt dry. He was far too familiar with them by now to find them this distracting. 

Standing, he pulled away. “Then you are setting me up for failure,” he told her, more firmly. He held out his hand. “Come. It has been a long day.”

A few people wished them goodnight; Elizabeth gave Jane a long hug. Branson watched them leave with a disquieted expression. Upon seeing it, Solas found himself reaching for Elizabeth’s hand and had to stop himself. Normally, he was not a possessive person, or prone to envy, but then, Elizabeth was not really his to worry over. 

Back at their hut, Elizabeth mentioned something about a shower. “Otherwise I’ll smell like campfire all week,” she told him, stretching. She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Solas with a sudden empty feeling that he did not wish to explore too deeply. 

Solas tried to get comfortable on the couch as he heard the shower start. It was difficult. He tried folding his legs, and considered putting the cushions on the floor. 

The bathroom door opened. The scent of rose and coconut filled the room. She was dressed in a t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, and her hair was damp. She was shivering. She caught sight of him. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said. “Come on. We’re adults. Get in the bed. I have no idea where there’s a second blanket, and it’s freezing.”

Solas considered turning down her request again, but worried that it would be a case of protesting too much. He relented, going to the bed and climbing beneath the sheets. The lights turned off and he felt the weight shift as she joined him.

“Good night,” she said. 

“Good night,” he echoed. 

The warmth of her body was inches away. Her breathing grew deep and steady. Solas determinedly stayed on his back, not looking her way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Laurence belongs to Buttsonthebeach but she was kind enough to lend him to me.
> 
> 2) Branson having a bit of a crush on Elizabeth is actually from my as-of-yet unwritten Persuasion/DA4 adaptation, in which my current plan is to have him stand-in for Louisa Musgrove. (Lizzie is Wentworth)
> 
> 3) I hope you liked the little bit of fluff, because next up is angst with a side of angst!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading <3


	5. i would wait forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said there would be angst, but there isn't. YET. Apologies for anyone who was looking forward to it. It's coming, I promise.

Neither of them had closed the curtains before falling asleep, which meant Elizabeth woke far too early. She tried to orient herself, squinting at the sunlight that streamed in through the window. Somehow, during the night, she’d managed to curl herself around Solas, which… well, it was an embarrassing surprise. She wasn’t much of a cuddler, usually. Maybe she’d been drawn to the warmth of his body. Her leg was hooked over his, and her hand was spread across his chest. Cringing, she glanced at his face. He was still deep asleep. She untangled herself, trying not to wake him.

When he did not stir, she sighed in relief.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Then she did a sweep of the little kitchenette that sat just beyond a counter in the main room. There was a coffee maker beside the sink, and grounds, mugs, plus a pack of filters in the cabinet underneath. Within minutes, she was holding a fresh cup of hazelnut. She started the Friday crossword puzzle on her phone. She was almost done when she heard movement behind her.

“Morning,” she said, twisting to glance back. Solas had pulled himself into a sitting position on the bed, his feet on the floor. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You did not.” He blinked blearily. “Do you know the time?

“Just about eight. There’s breakfast in the main building, if you’re interested.” He was in the middle of rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Or if you want to stay here, I can grab something for both of us.”

He yawned and blinked again. “What is our schedule for the day?”

“The rehearsal dinner’s tonight. And I have to help Jane set up the pavillion for the wedding this afternoon, so you’ll be on your own for a few hours. But I’m free until then.” She nodded at the brochure on the bedside table. “We have an array of options.”

Solas picked up the brochure and flipped through it. After a moment, he asked, “Do you have a preference?”

“There’s a ropes course,” she said. She grinned. “I always liked those. I haven’t done one since I was a kid. But I bet it will be popular, so.”

He raised an eyebrow as he stood. “Is popular bad?”

She shrugged. “More people means more visibility. More….” She trailed off, gesturing between the two of them. “You know. Pretending. We’re off to a decent start, though.”

And they were. Far better than she’d hoped for, based on the car ride. Solas was a good actor. The fond smile he’d given her by the bonfire was Oscar-worthy.

“I would be fine with the ropes course,” he said, placing the brochure back in its home. “I do need a shower, however.”

“Great.” She stretched. “I’ll change while you’re in there.” She went to her suitcase and pulled out some clothes. “Maybe I’ll wear a bathing suit, too. Just in case we end up by the lake later.”

After a beat, Solas said, “Very well. Then… I'll do the same.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

She closed the curtains and waited until she heard the shower start to strip down. Her bathing suit was a one piece—bright red, with straps that tied behind the base of her neck. She slathered on some suntan lotion, then slipped on denim shorts and a loose, white t-shirt. By the time the bathroom door opened, spilling the scent of soap and steam into the room, she was holding two pairs of shoes, frowning.

“What do you thi--?” she began to ask as she turned, but then she saw him.

Her mind went blank. Solas wore only a pair of dark green swimming trunks. No shirt. Her eyes flicked over his body . He was using a clean towel to dry his back and face.

 _Maker._ He was deceptively fit under all that nice clothing. His skin was still damp from the shower. There was a faint trail of auburn hair that led from his belly button downward, disappearing beneath the hem of his trunks. His shoulders’ muscles moved as he shifted. Even in the dimmed room, she could make out the soft indents of his collarbone.

It registered somewhere in her brain that she was staring. She forced herself back to the present. “Um. What do you think, sneakers or sandals?” she asked weakly, hoping her voice sounded level.

“For a ropes course?” he asked. At least he seemed oblivious to her momentary lapse. He finished with the towel and hung it, glancing back at her. “Sneakers, I would say.”

She busied herself with putting her sandals away, listening to him search through his bag. _What the fuck was that?_ she asked herself. Apparently, one Oscar-worthy smile was enough to throw her mind for a loop.

Well. That wasn’t fair to him, really. She’d always had a thing for good shoulders; his happened to be particularly nice.

But he was a much older man, she reminded herself. And worse, he acted like it. Elizabeth had no interest in being corrected like a child, and Solas seemed the type who would do that constantly, even in front of others, even when wrong, even in bed, and _holy Andraste, why the fuck was she following that train of thought?_

She bit down on her lip, waiting until the shuffling behind her stopped. When she was fairly sure he was clothed, she glanced over her shoulder. He was reviewing the brochure again.

“It appears the ropes course does not open until nine,” he told her. He met her gaze. “Should we get breakfast first?”

“Yes,” she said. “Great. That sounds perfect.”

If he noticed that her tone was a little too sharp to be casual, he did not say anything.

 

~

 

The main building was crowded, and not just because of Jane’s guests. Apparently, August was a popular time for families to visit the Frostbacks. And whoever had built the dining room, their main priority had clearly not been acoustics; every child's laugh and screech was magnified tenfold.

Breakfast was served in a line. Elizabeth received a terse smile from a lady in a hairnet who dumped a pile of scrambled eggs onto her plate. She saw Laurence and Bertram were seated across the room. She waited until Solas had finished gathering his food to head over.

As she approached, she realized Mary and Thom were with them. She faltered slightly, wondering if they should go elsewhere. It wasn’t that she didn’t _like_ her middle sister. In fact, Mary was probably the only sister Elizabeth trusted to speak the truth--Jane, Maker bless her, always chose niceness over honesty; Lydia was as likely to lie as not; and Kitty changed her mind based on the direction of the wind. Mary, on the other hand, had a few very severe opinions, and hardly ever knew how to read a room. With Solas there, she was concerned they’d stumble upon a controversial topic and end up in a blowout.

It was too late to retreat, though. Bertram had spotted them and waved them over.  Elizabeth grabbed a seat next to him. On her other side, Solas did the same.

“Good morning,” she said, a touch too brightly.

“Morning,” Bertram said. He nodded at the room with a grin. “Feels a bit like a high school cafeteria, doesn’t it?”

Elizabeth considered reminding him she’d never gone to high school, as she’d attended a College, but decided against it. Bertram meant well. “Yeah,” she lied, not missing the quick glance Solas shot her. Maybe she had more in common with Jane than she thought.

Mary frowned at her eggs. “Tastes like one, too.”

“You think so?” Laurence asked, his Orlesian accent rounding his vowels. “I found the potatoes to be very good, in fact.”

Bertram rolled his eyes fondly. “They were tater tots.”

“And they were delicious.”

Before Bertram could respond, a strong pair of arms engulfed Elizabeth. She let out a yelp and nearly knocked over her water as she was tugged upward into an enormous bear hug. “Trevelyan!” a voice boomed into her ear.

Elizabeth recognized it immediately. Her smile grew wide. She hugged the big figure back. “Hawke!” she exclaimed. “Holy crap! How are you? It’s been--what, three years now?”

“Has it?” Hawke squeezed her even tighter. “Maker's balls, I’m getting old.”

“Okay, okay,” Elizabeth laughed, pushing against Hawke’s shoulders. “Now you’re crushing me.”

“That's your own fault for being so damn crushable,” Hawke chuckled, but she did let go.

Elizabeth looked her over. She seemed well. But it was hard to tell with Hawke, who had once herself said that she bottled up more things than a Ferelden distillery. She was an apostate who’d worked at the Inquisition. She and Elizabeth had met through Jane’s work, but had become friends independently.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Elizabeth said.

The truth of that statement hit her the moment the words left her mouth. She’d seen the guest list at least a dozen times, and Marianne Hawke’s name was _definitely_ not on it. Plus, the last time she’d checked, Hawke and Jane were not even fond of one another. They’d worked together for a year, and it hadn't ended well, to put it mildly.

“Wait,” Elizabeth said. She stared at Hawke, horrified. “Hawke. Please tell me you’re not crashing my sister’s wedding.”

“Oh, please,” Hawke said, rolling her eyes. “Like I’d crash Jane fucking Trevelyan’s wedding. That would be the least interesting thing I could do with my weekend. She’s impossible to get a rise out of. I bet she’d thank me for coming and send me home with a gift bag.” Her eyes brightened. _“Rutherford_ , on the other hand….”

“Hawke,” Elizabeth said, feeling her blood run cold. _“No.”_

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Hawke said. She slid into a seat at the end of the table, grabbing a cranberry muffin off Laurence’s plate. “Don’t worry. I’m here legitimately. Well. Somewhat legitimately.” She threw Laurence a broad smile and extended her hand. “Hello. Name’s Hawke. I used to work with the groom. And bride, as it happens, but mostly the groom.”

“Laurence,” he replied, shaking her hand. He gestured to Bertram. “My husband is Jane’s cousin.”

“Bertram,” he introduced himself.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Hawke said. She looked at Mary. “And you must be one of the sisters.”

“No, no, no, wait a moment,” Elizabeth interrupted. “What does _‘somewhat legitimately’_ mean?”

“It means that I’m--.” Hawke cut herself off and her eyes grew large as she looked past Elizabeth. “Well, I’ll be a nug’s uncle! Solas!”

“Hello, Hawke,” Solas greeted with a small smile. Elizabeth bit her lip to stop herself from interrupting again. The two of them had worked closely together at the Inquisition, and part of the reason Solas had come along was to reconnect with old colleagues. She knew she had to give him space.

“What in the Void are _you_ doing here?” Hawke asked him.

Solas glanced at Elizabeth before replying. “I… am here as Elizabeth’s guest, actually.”

“We’re… we’re dating,” Elizabeth added awkwardly.

Hawke looked delighted. “Really? Maker's balls. I knew it!” She slammed the hand not holding half a muffin on the table, making everyone except Laurence jump. She smirked at Elizabeth. “I told you so. Didn’t I tell you so?”

Elizabeth wanted to go back to finding out why Hawke was there in the first place, but this much enthusiasm had her distracted. “Sorry, you told me what?”

“That he had a crush on you!” Hawke exclaimed, waving at Solas. “Like… six years ago or something. Maybe five. It was right before that party in Halamshiral.”

Elizabeth had a sudden, vague memory of a conversation like that happening, and of her telling Hawke that she was insane. “Oh,” she managed. She glanced at Solas, whose lips had thinned into a frown. She looked away. “Right. Uh, maybe?”

Hawke took a bite of her muffin. Through the crumbs, she said, “I think I put money on it, too. With who, though? Isabela?” She shook her head. “No. Not Isabela. You never met Isabela.” She grinned. “But that’s great, you two! How long have you been together?”

“Hawke,” Elizabeth said, stopping Solas from giving their prepared response. “Can you please explain what _‘somewhat legitimately’_ means?”

“It just means I’m here as Tethras’s plus one. Elinor couldn’t make it, so he asked if I wanted to come. And Void take the whole damn world if you think I’d pass up the chance to see someone make an honest man of Cullen Rutherford.”

Elizabeth hesitated. She liked Varric Tethras--she really did--but sometimes she questioned his judgement when it came to his friends. Herself included. “Does my sister know you’re here?” she asked.

“No idea. _I_ didn’t reach out to her.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. Jane hadn't said anything, so she was probably still in the dark. It would be fine, Elizabeth told herself firmly. They’d worked together for a year. Surely interacting for one or two evenings would be tolerable.

“So!” Hawke said, turning back to Mary. “You’re sister number, what? Four? Five?”

Mary looked at her coolly. “Three. I’m Mary.”

“Three. I see. The Warden or the nanny?”

“The Warden,” Mary said, softening slightly. “And Kitty is a yield analyst now.”

“I have no idea who Kitty is or what that means, but good for her, I’m sure,” Hawke said in a cheerful tone.

“Kitty’s number four,” Bertram supplied helpfully.

“You are a Grey Warden,” Solas realized, looking at Mary. It occurred to Elizabeth that was something she’d forgotten to mention during their dates.

“Yes,” Mary told him. She nodded at Thom. “We both are.”

Solas glanced sharply between the two of them. “I see,” he said, frowning.

Elizabeth caught a flash of curiosity in Hawke’s eyes as she peered at Solas, and then Elizabeth, studying their faces. But the expression was quickly buried. She went back to Mary. “Either of you know a guy named Carver Hawke?”

“Yes, actually,” Thom interjected. “Met him once or twice in the field. Good man.”

Mary's eyebrows rose as understanding flooded her face. _“Oh_ . You’re _that_ Hawke,” she said. “The whistleblower.”

“Mary,” Elizabeth warned.

“What?” Mary said.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. In Mary’s defense, Hawke _was_ a fairly public figure. Over a decade ago, she and Cullen had worked for a pharmaceutical company called Galloway. Hawke had risen to fame by exposing a data breach by a third party that had left hundreds of thousands of medical records vulnerable. Three years later, after some surprisingly dramatic corporate espionage, Hawke had leaked further information about the corrupt CEO and a new addictive drug that the company had attempted to put on the market. The ensuing scandal had placed the CEO in prison.

“Maybe Hawke doesn’t want to talk about that,” Elizabeth said.

“But we all know about it,” Mary argued. “The book was a bestseller. They even made it into a movie.”

“The movie was horrible,” Laurence observed, dropping the _‘h’._ He offered another muffin to Hawke. “No offense to you, of course.”

Hawke didn't seem fazed, She took the muffin and bit into it. “None taken," she told them. "I never really saw myself as an Emily Blunt type, anyway." Once she finished and swallowed, she shifted topics easily, placing her chin in her hand. “So what's everyone's plan for the day?”

Thom spoke first. “We're hiking Mount Ash. Takes a while, but they say the view is worth it.”

“For us, probably tennis, to start,” Bertram said. “Then maybe a horse ride?”

“There are horses here?” Hawke asked.

Bertram nodded. “There are. The stables are right past the golf course.”

“You cannot miss the smell,” Laurence added.

“We’re doing the ropes course,” Elizabeth said, touching Solas’s arm. She could feel him tense slightly, but he remained very still.

“Ah!” Laurence exclaimed. He turned to Bertram. “Did John not say he would do the ropes course, too?”

“Yeah, Phoebe was set on it. They're taking a nature walk first.” Bertram looked at Elizabeth. “If you wait about an hour or so, I'm sure you could catch up with them and do the ropes together.”

Elizabeth kept her face neutral. John was far from her favorite person in the world. But it _would_ be nice to do spend more time with Phoebe. She glanced at Solas. “Maybe we can find something to pass the time?”

“That would be fine,” Solas said.

“Well, I’m dragging Tethras to the lake,” Hawke said, sticking her thumb over her shoulder. “To his great displeasure. If you want to join.”

Elizabeth exchanged another glance with Solas. He shrugged as if to say _‘you choose’._ She wasn’t sure whether seeing him shirtless again so soon was a great idea. On the other hand, she did want to hear more about how Hawke was doing, and Varric was at the top of Solas’s list of people to speak with about his article, being both a member of the Inquisition and a published author himself.

“Sure,” Elizabeth decided.

“Great!” Hawke exclaimed. She stood. “I’ll go grab him while you finish eating.” She gave a quick wave at the others. “Nice to meet you all.”

The table chorused back their goodbyes. Mary dug back into her eggs, and Laurence asked Thom about their planned hike. Once she was sure Hawke was out of earshot, Elizabeth dipped her head toward Solas and lowered her voice.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you think Jane and Cullen are going to take her being here?” She asked.

Solas considered. “Jane will be fine,” he murmured. Whatever had set Elizabeth off earlier must have still been in her veins, because the sound of his voice low and close to her ear had her suppressing a shiver. “As for Cullen…,” he added.

Elizabeth winced. Cullen had been a direct report to the CEO, who had also been a templar. While he would never defend his past, he and Hawke had… history. “Negative numbers?” Elizabeth guessed.

“Quite possibly,” Solas admitted.

“Shit,” Elizabeth said to herself.

 

~

 

They waited for Hawke and Varric outside the main building. It was a warm day; fortunately, there was a breeze, and the sun was not too high yet. Elizabeth watched Solas, curiously.

“You didn’t seem all that thrilled to learn that Mary and Thom are Grey Wardens,” she mentioned finally.

“Ah,” Solas said. “Yes. Well.” He paused, scanning the open field in front of them. Several larger cabins dotted the edges of the space, and then disappeared into the forest. “I… am not a fan, if that is what you’re asking.”

“Why not?”

He weighed his words heavily before speaking. “I believe them to be a temporary solution to a permanent issue. A solution that has removed the onus of finding anything better from the public’s mind.”

Elizabeth tilted her head quizzically. “So you think, what? That they should have just let the First Blight happen?”

“Of course not,” he said. “But it has been a thousand years since the First Blight, and no one has made any strides toward curing the taint. Meanwhile, hundreds of recruits are encouraged yearly to sign on to an organization with a history of violence and corruption, and a single mindedness that the Darkspawn themselves would envy.”

“So what’s the alternative?”

“I do not know,” he admitted. “But a lack of alternative should not be the greatest argument for a course of action. Very often, a step in the wrong direction is worse than no step at all.”

Elizabeth watched him for a moment. “Like the College. In your opinion.”

He met her gaze, surprised, then smiled sadly. “Yes. Like the College.” He peered at her. “What are your views on the Wardens?”

Elizabeth spotted Hawke and Varric approaching. She waved. “We should probably change the subject,” she told him. “Hawke’s brother is a Warden. But we can talk more later, if you’d like.”

“I would,” he said, sincerely. She smiled at him.

They began walking to meet Hawke and Varric halfway. Hawke was grinning broadly. She’d put on a pair of aviator sunglasses with gold rims. Varric looked a little surly, squinting at the sky as if it had done something to personally offend him. He also had a towel under his arm. Hawke’s was presumably in the oversized tote she carried.

“It was Tethras,” Hawke told them without greeting.

“What was Tethras?” Elizabeth asked, confused.

“Tethras was the one who I bet that you guys liked each other,” she said.

Varric laughed and then rubbed his face. “Holy Maker, I don’t even want to get into the grammar of that sentence,” he muttered to himself. He held up his hands at Elizabeth. “To clarify,” he said in his normal voice, “the bet was whether or not you guys would sleep together. Not whether you two liked each other.”

“Oh, _technicalities,”_ Hawke said with a shrug.

Varric shot her a glare. “I told you that the chemistry was there, but they’d never act on it.” He looked back at them. “Congrats on proving me wrong, by the way.” Elizabeth glanced at Solas, slightly horrified, only to find him staring at Varric with a clenched jaw. Varric took in their expressions. His own face turned contrite. “Oh. Shit. I guess I’ve been hanging out with Hawke too long.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hawke asked, offended.

“It means some people get embarrassed when they find out someone made a bet about their sex lives.”

Hawke shoved him. “Oh, suddenly you care about a _trivial_ little detail like gossiping about your friends without their permission,” she complained. “Where was all this compassion when you wrote _The Whistleblower?”_

Varric fixed her with a stare. “I have literally seen you use _The Whistleblower_ as a pick-up line, Hawke. That book is a better wingman than me. And I’m a pretty good wingman.” Before she could argue, he gave Elizabeth and Solas an apologetic smile. “I really am sorry. I swear upon my brother’s grave that I’ll never bet on either of you ever again.”

“Your brother was cremated,” Hawke pointed out.

“Anyway,” Varric said, ignoring her, “good to see you, Blaze. And you, too, Chuckles. It’s been way too long. Ready to head to lake?”

Elizabeth opened her mouth once. She cleared her throat. “I mean,” she said finally. “Only if I can drown myself in it when we get there.”

That made Varric and Hawke burst into laughter. Even Solas let out an amused snort, his head hanging forward.

“Okay, okay, lake time” Varric said. He stalked off, still laughing. “Let’s move, people. The sooner we get down there, the sooner Hawke lets me go back to the Great Indoors. And I’ve got this book I’m really liking.”

“It’s about me,” Hawke told Elizabeth in a stage whisper.

“It’s not about Hawke,” Varric called back, now several feet away.

“Oh fuck you,” Hawke said, adjusting the tote bag on her shoulder. “It’s about me and you know it.”

Elizabeth found herself exchanging an amused glance with Solas. Both of them had known these people a long time ago, and they hadn't changed much. Solas met her gaze, his expression soft and fond, even though no one was watching. It made her heart flutter in a way she very much was not used to. Could Hawke be right about him liking her? It would explain a few things. Was that something she even wanted?

 _Fucking shoulders,_  she thought to herself as she looked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, [this is Lizzie's swimsuit.](https://www.modcloth.com/shop/swimwear/bathing-beauty-one-piece-swimsuit-in-red/4667.html)
> 
> Special thanks goes out to buttsonthebeach, empresstress13, deleriumofyou, and cedarmoons for answering a brief survey on whether Solas has body hair or not. Results varied, but the consensus was he has at least a little happy trail. (Feel free to provide your own opinions in the comments. I am very curious.)
> 
> If there is a particular trope you're fond of or would like to see in this fic, please feel free to mention it to me here or on tumblr, where I am also **wardsarefunctioning**! :)


	6. exulted in the scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the shift in rating! It's not getting that raunchy yet, but there's a couple things that are definitely not T.

Elizabeth paired off with Hawke during the walk to the lake, leaving Solas together with Varric. Solas was pleased by this stroke of luck. Varric had always been one of the more reasonable people at the Inquisition. And he was not a human, so it was more likely that he would be sympathetic to Solas’s circumstances. Based on their interactions thus far, he seemed receptive to striking up a professional friendship again. Or at least allowing Solas to make amends. 

At first, Solas assumed it was a coincidence. However, a few moments after she’d linked Hawke’s arm with her own and gone ahead, Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder with a little smile. Instantly, he understood. She had orchestrated this on purpose.

He frowned. It was a strange feeling, the mixture of gratitude and resentment that rose in his chest. He should not need the help. He had never liked being placed in a position where he needed to rely on others, especially those who did not understand the intricacies of his work. The beauty of magic. The capacity of the Fade. All the things his people had lost. There was, of course, no way for Elizabeth to grasp any of that. The attractive qualities about her--her boldness, beauty, and intelligence--did not negate that truth. If she understood, she would not support the College. She would not hide her connection to the Mage Collective. She would not be here, adhering to her family’s restrictive, unstated rules about magic.

And yet, she was helping him.

 _They are not my audience,_ he remembered telling Felassan, weeks ago, on the day this all began.

 _They could be,_ Felassan had replied.

Solas cut his ruminations short. He focused on conversing with Varric for the remainder of the walk, inquiring after old acquaintances, and Varric’s wife and child. Just because he did not know how to take Elizabeth’s well-intended gift did not mean he should squander the opportunity.

They arrived at the lake’s shore about fifteen minutes later. It was larger than Solas had realized. A dozen lounging chairs were placed in uneven positions, presumably moved to follow the angle of the sun. Hawke claimed the nearest one, placing her bag next to it and stripping to her bathing clothes, which consisted of a pair of gray boyshorts and a tight black halter top.

“Are you guys in one of the bungalows, or a cabin?” Elizabeth asked.

“Cabin,” Hawke replied. “Thank the Maker. If we were in a bungalow, we’d have to share a bed, and Tethras kicks in his sleep.”

“Oh, that’s a damn lie, Hawke,” Varric said. “I kicked you _once,_ and I was awake when I did it.” Hawke rolled her eyes. “What? You snore like a dragon.”

“Do dragons snore?” Hawke asked. “Is that a thing?”

“You know what I meant.”

Elizabeth shimmied out of her jean shorts and pulled off her shirt. Solas could not help but glance her way. He was briefly relieved to find that her suit was not too revealing, but then realized that did not matter. The cloth still hugged the swell of her hips above her bare legs and followed the narrow pinch of her waist. She was a slight woman, and small-breasted, which only served to make her prominent lower curves more noticeable.

He tore his gaze away, looking at the lake. By the huts that Elizabeth called bungalows, a handful of people were fishing already. There were paddle boats dotting the center. Solas squinted at one of them.

“Is that not Cullen’s sister?” he asked.

Elizabeth followed his gaze. “It is,” she said. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called out, “Mia!”

Mia shielded her eyes from the sun. They were too far away to hear each other properly but the two of them waved at each other, as did Mia’s husband. Solas was on the verge of feeling thankful that he’d been able to divert his attention, when Elizabeth bent in half beside him to untie her shoes.

Helplessly, his eyes flicked down.

“Are you going to join us?” Hawke asked a second later, snapping him back to reality. The smirk on her lips heavily indicated that she had caught him staring.

“Of course,” he said evenly, reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

Once he’d removed it, he realized that the growing heat on the back of his neck had not just been from his embarrassment at being caught. Without thinking, he began to lift his hand.

He caught himself. He glanced at the lake. His sun protection spell was minor, and would not take long, but the bright glow of magic would be obvious to anyone looking. He could not make out the figures on the far shore. Some of Elizabeth’s more sensitive family members could be among them.

He dropped his hand.

“There may be a problem,” he told Elizabeth when she’d finished with her shoes. “I have nothing to protect me from the sun, and I am afraid I burn quite easily.”

“You didn’t bring sunscreen?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. Normally, I use magic,” he explained.

Understanding came over her face. “Oh. Well, don’t worry, I have some back at the bungalow. I can go grab it.”

“No need for that,” Hawke said, pulling a bottle out of her bag. “Here, take mine.” Her grin widened as she looked at him. “I’d offer to do your back, but you know. Wouldn’t want the girlfriend to get jealous or anything.” Before that thought could sink in fully, she’d turned. “Come on, Tethras! Race you to the water!” She broke into a run.

“What are we, children?” Varric complained. But then his competitive nature kicked in and he darted after her with a grunt of annoyance.

Solas looked at Elizabeth, who was staring at him with something like alarm. “Um,” she said awkwardly, glancing away. Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I guess I’ll do your back, then.”

“It would seem odd if you didn’t,” Solas agreed slowly, though it was the last thing he needed just then. “A moment, please.”

He focused on opening the bottle and applying lotion to any area he could reach himself--his legs, his chest, his arms--trying not to think of what would be happening in a few moments. A sense of dread grew in his chest. When he glanced at her, he realized her eyes were fixed on his hands, and she was chewing her bottom lip between her teeth. The look on her face sent a spark through his veins.

He looked away, hiding his surprise. It was a shock to realize that the attraction between them could be mutual. Dozens of images flashed through his mind at the thought. It was also the moment when he realized he was on the verge of having a very real problem on his hands. She had not even touched him, and yet he could feel a familiar tightening in his groin. He cursed inwardly. He was in a swimsuit. If things continued the way they were going, his reaction to her would soon be evident.

Fortunately, the panic distracted him and bought him time. Glancing at the area around them, he formed a plan.

“I believe I am too tall for you to reach me comfortably,” he said when he finished his chest. Handing her the bottle, he tilted his head toward one of the chairs behind them, the one nearest to the lake. “Perhaps we should sit down.”

Elizabeth nodded. He walked over and sat on the edge, arranging himself so that his situation would not become too obvious, even under the worst of circumstances. The wooden chair creaked as Elizabeth knelt behind him. He heard her squeeze the bottle, then rub her hands together.

He shivered when she touched his bare skin with both hands.

“Too cold?” she asked.

There was a slight but obvious husk to her voice. Solas squeezed his eyes shut. He was grateful that he’d had the foresight to sit down. “A bit,” he said, hoping the short answer would suffice.

“Sorry,” she said softly, withdrawing. He could hear her rub her hands together a few more times before he felt them return to his back. “Better?”

He simply nodded.

She slid her hands over his shoulders, lightly at first, then firm enough to press out the tension gathered in his muscles. He focused every ounce of willpower he had into breathing evenly. How long had it been since anyone had touched him like this? He could hardly remember. Even if it had not been Elizabeth, he still would have been affected; the fact that it was _her_ hands brushing the lotion across his skin made coherent thought next to impossible.

Her fingers were small and calloused. Their slight roughness became more evident when she massaged the lotion into his sides and lower back. It was hard not to acknowledge how badly he wanted to feel them everywhere. On his chest. On his face. Pressed against his lips.

Dipping below the hem of his swimsuit.

She reached the base of his spine. He held back a shudder and took in a breath, hoping she did not notice. After a lingering pause, her hand disappeared.

“There you go,” she said with false brightness. The weight of the chair shifted again, and just like that, it was over.

He opened his eyes. It was a harsh reminder that he was in a public place. Mia's boat was gone, but Varric and Hawke were on a floating wooden platform just thirty yards into the water. From the hurried way Hawke jumped into the lake as soon as Elizabeth stood, Solas suspected that she, at least, had been watching them from afar. He sighed. He should not have been surprised.  

Elizabeth walked into his view. Her cheeks were somewhat pink, and her gaze was fixed somewhere behind him. “I’m just going to….” she said, pointing vaguely to the water.

“Yes. I need to apply another layer to my head,” Solas said, utterly relieved to have an excuse to stay behind. Elizabeth handed him the bottle, not looking at him, and then jogged down to the lake. He looked away.

He knew it would be several minutes before he could join them.

 

~

 

The lake was chilly. Which was a good thing, as far as Elizabeth was concerned. She dunked her head beneath the surface as soon as she was neck deep. Suspended in silence, she let out a full breath of bubbles, a noiseless groan over whatever had just happened.

Well, her suspicion had been correct. Solas had extremely nice shoulders. Part of her wanted to ask him how he kept in shape, while another part of her wanted to _never, ever speak to him again._ The way he’d reacted to her touching him had left little doubt in her mind that he was, on some level, attracted to her. But attraction was such a broad spectrum; it was possible that he liked her, but had no interest in people her age. It was possible that it had just been a while, and there she was in a bathing suit, essentially _caressing_  his bare skin. It was possible that he’d always found her physically attractive, but had no interest in pursuing things further.

That was where she landed, after all.

Wasn’t it?

Her mind wandered. She thought of the night she’d called him and they’d watched Wizard of Oz together. How he’d made her laugh with his little theories, and how it had made her smile to hear him yawning, trying to stay up for her. She thought of their two dates, how the conversation had flowed so easily. She even thought back to those old happy hours, where they’d argued about the College.

She remembered that fond smile he’d given her the previous evening.

This time, her heart fluttered at the thought that it could have been real.

 _Shit,_ Elizabeth thought, resurfacing with a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time she’d completely misread her own mind. Feelings had never been one of her strong points. Usually, her being attracted to someone was a sign that everything was about to go terribly wrong. There was, after all, a reason why she was the only single Trevelyan.

Well, she wasn’t going to solve anything over the next two days. It was Jane’s wedding weekend. She pushed her thoughts firmly into one corner of her mind, determined to ignore them for now.

“Trevelyan!” Hawke called out. Elizabeth could see she was sitting on the wooden platform, her legs dangling off the edge. _A distraction,_ she thought to herself. Good. She swam over.

“Where’s Varric?” Elizabeth asked her as she pulled herself out of the water.

“There are jet skis,” Hawke said. “Supposedly. He went to investigate.”

Elizabeth sat beside her. She leaned back on her elbows, letting the warm sun dry her skin. “Jane really lucked out with this weather,” she observed. “Tomorrow’s supposed to be just like today.”

“Nice,” Hawke said. She slid her sunglasses to the top of her head and threw Elizabeth a sidelong glance with her piercing blue eyes. “So,” she went on. “You never answered me. How long have you and Solas been dating?”

Elizabeth would have preferred to talk about anything except Solas right then, but she had no good excuse to avoid the question. “Six months.”

“Hm.” Hawke drew out the hum with scepticism. “That is a very specific, well-rounded number, isn’t it?”

Elizabeth glanced at Hawke sharply. Did she suspect something? “I’m guesstimating,” she said.

“I see,” Hawke said. “And where was your first date?”

“At a diner near me,” Elizabeth told her. “Erma’s.”

“Your second date?”

“An Antivan place in Ostwick.”

“And your third?”

Elizabeth paused. “We watched a movie at his place.” She narrowed her eyes. “Hawke. What is this about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Hawke said with an innocent shrug. “Just a curious friend inquiring after your extremely real relationship. You know, the relationship in which you forgot to mention your sister is a Grey Warden. The relationship where you both still get flustered discussing sex, despite having been together for… _six months_. The relationship where, for _some_ reason, he feels the need to hide it when he admires your body in a bathing suit.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock. Hawke smirked. “The one where you look like that when I tell you he was admiring your body in a bathing suit. _That_ relationship.”

Elizabeth swallowed and tried to look confused. “What, you think we’re _faking?”_

“Honey, I _know_ you’re faking. I just can’t figure out why.”

“You really think that’s the most likely explanation here.”

“At this point? Yes.”

“Maybe we don’t talk about family that much,” Elizabeth tried. Hawke snorted. “And maybe neither of us really likes to talk about sex.”

“Trevelyan,” Hawke said blandly. “The second time I met you, you told me a _hilarious_ story about the time you gave a blowjob to a templar and it restored part of your mana.”

Elizabeth hushed Hawke frantically, glancing around. No one was within hearing distance. Her face was burning hot. In her defense, she was _very_ drunk that night. “Hawke, _please_ don’t.”

“All I’m doing is stating facts.”

Elizabeth grit her teeth and looked away. Hawke was a friend, and she’d always been unnaturally perceptive, but she also had a tendency to spread gossip like a Blight. Elizabeth felt tempted to tell her the truth anyway. Lydia knew, for Andraste’s sake. No one could be worse about gossip than Lydia.

Hawke seemed amused by her silent debate. “If you think you can convince me that what I just witnessed was _resolved_ sexual tension, then you really have no idea how bad you both have it.”

Elizabeth glared, pulling herself into a cross-legged position. “Fine,” she said. She sighed. “You’re right. It’s Lydia’s fault.”

“Who is Lydia, again?”

“My youngest sister,” she explained. “I was going to be the only one of my sisters without a significant other at the wedding, and my mother has a history of trying to set us up with terrible dates. Lydia thought if we told her I had a boyfriend, she would leave me alone.”

“And has she?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Mostly.”

“How’d Solas end up the lucky guy?”

“It’s… a long story.” She curled a strand of damp hair around her finger. “I wasn't going to bring an actual person. The plan was to say he got sick or something. But Solas volunteered.”

Hawke’s lips curled into a smile. She glanced at the shoreline. “Oh, I bet he did,” she said in a lascivious tone.

_“Hawke.”_

“What?” she said. “You should have seen his face while you were doing his back.” She raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “And you’re not doing much better right now.”

Exhaling a deep breath, Elizabeth ran her hand over her eyes. “Maker’s breath.”

“What’s wrong?” Hawke asked. “You like him. He likes you. One of you just needs to make a move. Might as well be you. Right?”

“It’s really not that simple,” Elizabeth said.

“Why not?”

Elizabeth had no answer for her. There were so many reasons it was complicated on her end. Relationships were discouraged in the College, making the few she’d had there difficult to maintain. And the one she had since had been… _a mistake._ Once Dawson had realized she was sincere in not wanting marriage or children, he’d essentially accused her of needing therapy and left.

“Come on, Trevelyan. Why not?”

Hawke was really pushing the point, Elizabeth thought to herself.

Then it hit her. Hawke had not been the only person who saw them. She huffed in disbelief. _“Oh._  Varric figured it out, too, didn’t he?”

Hawke’s smile fell. She straightened. Flicking her sunglasses back in place, she became overly casual. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He’s making you give back the bet money,” Elizabeth said. “That’s why you want me to make a move.”

“How _dare_ you accuse me of such blatant underhandedness,” Hawke said haughtily. She stood. “It’s offensive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go see a dwarf about a jet ski.”

Elizabeth began to relax a little. So this wasn't about her insecurities. It was about a bet between Varric and Hawke. She'd be insulted if she weren't so relieved.

Hawke paused at the edge of the platform. “Seriously, Trevelyan,” she added, not unkindly. “Bet or no bet, it’s okay to want something. You don’t need to talk yourself out of it.”

Elizabeth glanced back at the shore. Solas had waded waist deep in the water and was in the midst of pouring some over his head.

“I don’t know if I do want it, though,” she said. “I mean, yes, clearly there was something there. But I’m not sure if I’m attracted _to_ him. It's... a recent development. Maybe I just had a flash of panic with the lotion. Touching people is awkward, right?”

Hawke studied Elizabeth behind two mirrored lenses. She crossed her arms, turning toward Solas. “Do me a favor,” she said to Elizabeth. “Imagine if you had to put sunblock on me. Or Varric. Or Dorian.” She waited a moment. “Any flashes of panic that time?”

 “No,” Elizabeth admitted, both to Hawke and herself.

Hawke spread her hands, as if to say _‘Well, now you know.’_ “Good luck, Trevelyan. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life--save your regrets for the times you actually tried, hm?”

With that, she jumped off the platform, sunglasses and all. Elizabeth watched her swim away. Sighing, she layed back on the warm wood and closed her eyes.  

 

~

 

Elizabeth mulled over what Hawke had told her as she dozed on the platform. After some time had passed, she remembered that she needed to wear two dresses in the next forty-eight hours, and one of them was strapless. Even with lotion, she couldn’t risk getting too much sun.

By the time she’d made it back to shore, Solas was sitting in the shade on a towel, and Varric and Hawke had returned, unsuccessful in their hunt for a jet ski. They were debating whether or not to rent a boat. Nearly an hour had passed, and the ropes course was nearby.

“We should head over,” she told Solas, decidedly not looking at his bare chest. “See if we can catch John and Phoebe before I have to leave.”

He agreed. He put on his shirt as she dressed. Thank the Maker she had to help Jane later. Hawke’s advice had her contemplating doing some very stupid things. The lotion Hawke had given him had not been very strong, and he’d picked up a little color, especially on his nose. It was distractingly charming.

They said their goodbyes to Hawke and Varric. Hawke shot Elizabeth one last meaningful look, which she ignored. Solas walked next to her in silence. She tried making a similar observation about the weather, but he seemed as disinterested as Hawke had been.

“Does Phoebe have a second parent involved in her life?” Solas asked eventually.

“No,” Elizabeth said. “Her mother died a few years back.”

“Ah. I am sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah. It was rough. Very sudden.”

To her relief, John and Phoebe were, in fact, at the ropes course when they arrived. John was as standoffish as usual, but Phoebe was thrilled to see her. John explained that they’d finished the miniature ropes course to the side, which he referred to as the tutorial. The only attendant was a bored young woman with a Kindle who barely looked up when Solas and Elizabeth picked up their safety harnesses.

“I guess we’ll start there and join them after,” Elizabeth said to Solas. The awkwardness had not fully dissipated, but at least they were clothed and talking.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Solas had no experience with climbing. After Elizabeth had snapped in the various buckles on her harness, she’d looked up to find him struggling with even the first clasp. A quick glance explained why.

“Oh,” she said, stepping toward him. “You have this one twisted--and your arm isn’t supposed to go there.” She held out her hands without thinking. “May I?”

Solas stilled. She realized she was offering to touch him again. For half a second, she thought he would refuse. However, he dropped his hands from the buckles and held his arms out slightly. She slipped the one that he’d misplaced off his shoulder, and then guided his arm through the right way. She found the tangle in the strap across his chest and tried to untwist it. It resisted her efforts.

She glanced up at him. “We might….”

Her voice trailed off. They were standing very close, with her hands tangled on his chest. His expression was unreadable.

She gulped.

There was a child’s sudden screech, and then John’s voice cried, “Phoebe!”

Elizabeth spun. She spotted John first--he was rushing toward a lump on the ground, which she realized was Phoebe. It was below a part of the course that was at least twenty feet in the air.

She gasped. “Oh, Maker, no,” she whispered, and then she was rushing over, too. She could sense that Solas was following close at heel.

John struggled to help his daughter into a sitting position. She was sobbing--which, all things considered, was a good sign, Elizabeth knew, but that did not lessen her panic. “Phoebe,” John said. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

She couldn’t reply through her tears.

Elizabeth pulled out her phone. She had no service. The attendant had joined them. “Get a doctor,” Elizabeth told her. “Or a nurse, or _\--someone.”_ The attendant nodded once and hurried off.

Solas knelt at Phoebe side. He touched her shoulder, closing his eyes. He focused and breathed in.

“It is her wrist, I believe,” he told John a second later, whose face was still ashen. John glanced up, not appearing to really understand what he was hearing. Solas went on, “It is not badly broken. Here.”

“What?” John asked, lost.

A glow began around the girl, focusing on one side of her body. John looked down, his expression going from panic to one of horror. Elizabeth realized what was about to happen. 

“John, it’s fine, he’s healing her,” she said desperately, but it was too late.

“Get your fucking hands off my daughter,” John said, jerking back from him with Phoebe still in his arms. Solas looked shocked. Elizabeth placed her hands over her mouth.

Phoebe stopped crying. She was now blinking rapidly. It wasn’t clear to Elizabeth whether that was because Solas had finished healing the fracture, or because she’d heard her father swear. A mixture of both, probably. In a matter of seconds, John had angled himself so he could still hold Phoebe, and could reach for Solas’s collar at the same time. Right before he made contact, Solas stepped back and raised a barrier.

“Solas!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

The barrier made John stumble backward slightly. His outrage grew, his glower deepening. Elizabeth quickly stepped into the space between the two men.

“John,” she said as calmly as she could. “He was trying to help.”

“He used magic on a _child,_ Lizzie!” John snapped, still glaring at Solas.

“He was healing her,” Elizabeth explained.

John’s gaze slid to Elizabeth. “He was going to attack me."

“He raised a barrier,” Elizabeth said, aware her own voice was rising. “That’s the _opposite_ of attacking.”

John’s mouth twitched in anger. He looked between the two of them. Elizabeth kept perfectly still, not touching either man.

“Daddy,” Phoebe said in a high voice. She had started crying again, Elizabeth realized with a pang.

John’s face crashed as well. The fight drained out of him. He took a step back, and focused all his attention on Phoebe. “Hey, it’s fine, baby. It’s fine. Daddy’s sorry.”

She sniffed, wrapping her healed arm around her father’s neck. “I’m feeling okay now. Can we just go?”

John murmured affirmations, shifting to carry her against his front. He looked back at Elizabeth over Phoebe’s shoulder. His jaw clenched. “I hope you know I’m telling Aunt Fanny about this.”

Elizabeth didn’t reply. John walked away, and she watched him disappear into the woods with his daughter. She breathed in. The heat hadn't left her. She removed her harness in a few short tugs and threw it on the ground. 

“Elizabeth,” Solas said in a hesitant voice.

She spun on him. “What the fuck was that?”

Solas blinked, taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

“I thought I made it clear that my family doesn’t like magic,” she said. _“Especially_ John.”

“Yes, but--”

“You just used magic, without his permission, on his daughter."

Solas’s expression hardened. “Because she was injured,” he said angrily.

“There are other ways to treat injuries.”

“None are as efficient or painless to the patient.”

Elizabeth’s hands balled into fists. “That’s not the point.”

Solas narrowed his eyes. “Then, please, explain to me the point, if not to deal with a medical emergency as effectively as possible.”

 “I just mean this whole thing could have been avoided!”

“Only by my absence.”

 "What? You could have--”

“You truly expect me to stand by and let a child suffer because your family is too ignorant to understand the tenants of their own religion?” he said, his eyes boring into hers. _“‘Magic exists to serve man.’_ Or is that not the line?” She had heard his tone turn guarded before, had heard him grow heated in debate. But the cold tone he used now sent ice down her spine. He shook his head. “I came here knowing that you hid your beliefs for the sake of your family's comfort. I did not realize you compromised your principles, as well.”

Elizabeth stared at him, speechless, her mouth hanging open. 

Solas dropped his gaze. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is nearly noon. Your sister will be expecting you.” 

With that, he walked away. She felt a deep urge to run after him. But she had no idea what to say. By the time she could breathe, he was gone. 

 _Maker._ How had that gone so badly?

She stood there for a moment longer, letting the adrenaline bleed out of her in waves. Phoebe was alright. That was the important thing. She was grateful Solas had done whatever he could, beneath her swirl of anxiety over what the consequences would be for both of them. Hopefully she would be able to take the brunt of it, and nothing would come back to Solas. Or, more importantly, to Jane. This was supposed to be her sister’s weekend, Elizabeth reminded herself. She needed to pull herself together.

She headed toward the pavillion. Solas had exaggerated when he had said it was close to noon, but she needed a walk anyway, to cool down and shrink her emotions into something manageable. Her mind was still spinning, Solas's parting words echoing in her ears. She had a feeling that if she let it, the seed of regret in her stomach would grow into something much larger. 

_You expect me to stand by and let a child suffer?_

Oh, Maker. She did need to apologize. She decided to go find him after all.

And it probably would have worked, had Mrs. Trevelyan not spotted her first. Before she could head back to the bungalow, Elizabeth had almost reached the pavilion. She saw her mother waiting with her arms crossed, a furious look on her face.

"Lizzie!" 

Elizabeth tensed. At least Jane was nowhere to be seen. She sighed and approached. "Mama."

“What is this I hear about Solas attacking John? With _magic?”_

“He didn’t attack John,” Elizabeth insisted. “He raised a barrier around himself. John got angry because he tried to heal Phoebe, after she broke her wrist.”

“Well, of course John would take it poorly if some hedge mage decides he has the right to touch his child. What did you think would happen? Honestly, I thought you knew better.”

“I didn’t doanything, Mama. And Solas _was_ trying to help.”

That was ignored. “I expect this sort of behavior from _those friends_ of Jane's, but we are a civilized family, and your guest needs to understand that. If neither of you can control yourselves, you cannot attend the wedding. It just wouldn’t be responsible.”

Elizabeth knew Jane would never approve such a thing. It still made her wince. The last thing Jane needed was to get involved with this clusterfuck the day before her wedding. “Mama,” she tried, one last time. “Solas thought--”

“Solas had no right to think,” her mother interrupted. “I swear, mages are the most self-centered creatures in the world.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling a heaviness behind her eyes. It hurt. It always hurt. She didn’t know why. Most days, she did not even _like_ her mother, let alone trust her opinion about anything important.

But the fact that her own mother could not love her unconditionally still cut deep.

There was one person in the world who did, though. 

“I’m sorry, Mama,” she said, for Jane's sake. “It won’t happen again.”

Mama’s expression softened. “No more magic?”

“No more magic,” Elizabeth agreed, staring at the ground.

“Good,” Mrs. Trevelyan said. “Apology accepted.” She opened her arms. “Now come here.”

She let her mother hug her. She was well aware she was apologizing to the wrong person. And that just made her feel worse, because no matter what she believed, this was the relationship that she had to maintain. No Mama meant less Jane. That was how family worked. The closest people in her life, gone. She wished it could be different, but she’d spent a decade of her childhood at the College. She was a Trevelyan, yes, and yet a half step removed from the rest of them. If Mama ever gave an ultimatum, hers would be the easier tie to break.

Or worse, Elizabeth reflected, it could happen gradually, with each of her sisters realizing how little they had in common with her. With her only hearing about them through mutual acquaintances, like Ellendra and her youngest sister. With Jane drifting away last, as their shared holidays and visits dwindled down to nothing. 

Mrs. Trevelyan released her, patting her on the back. “Jane should be here soon. I don't think we need to worry her with any of this, do you?” She stepped into pavilion, and Elizabeth followed silently. “You know, Jane changed back her bouquet to those hideous flowers without telling me? What are they called?"

"Calla lilies," Elizabeth said. 

"Calla lilies! Ridiculous, if you ask me. I told her that she should add a pop of color, but she insists on it. Really, one might as well be carrying a bouquet of leeks at that point. And that isn’t even to mention corsages. It’s very inconsiderate to me, you know. I’m certain Cullen’s mother would agree with me, if she were still with us, bless her soul. Not that a farmer would have anything against leeks, I suppose.”

Elizabeth tuned the rest of her mother’s words out. Already, the regret was growing larger. She needed a task to focus on, so Jane would not notice her moping. She looked around the room. The pavilion was large, and there were about twelve tables set up with tableclothes but no other decorations. A box in the corner held some of the supplies. Picking up the laminated seating chart, she set out to put the numbers and vases on each table.

As she worked, and her mother rambled, she wondered if Solas would be able to forgive her now. She doubted it, especially once he learned that she'd made peace with her mother, at both of their expense. 

Solas couldn't understand. He had fewer people in his life that he needed to please. In a way, she envied him--he could choose to live his way, without any consequences. But, on the other hand, it was clear that he had almost no love and support in his life.

Elizabeth put down her box on the counter, handing her mother a vase. At the end of the day, that was not a compromise she willing to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, Lizzie, you just need four "Solas Approves" to balance out one "Solas Greatly Disapproves"
> 
> I know this is a tonal shift, but I do promise it will not stay so angsty. They are coming at each other from very different places. 
> 
> And hey, UST anyone? ;)


	7. so long as i am with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh! I have no idea what happened, but when I went to update this fic with Chapter 8, it told me it had doubled posted as Chapter 8 and Chapter 9. I deleted one of them, and it instead deleted Chapter 7 (meaning I also lost the comments). So here is Chapter 7 again in all its glory. I've backdated it to the original date posted, but apologies if you're getting notifications and you've already read this chapter.

 Solas was fuming. He had to consciously unclench his hands as he walked back to the hut. He’d been appalled by John’s reaction to his magic, but that, at least, was expected. Elizabeth, on the other hand…. She’d _admonished_ him, for helping an injured child. It was not just shock that he was feeling. It was disappointment. Fury did not begin to describe it.

How foolish, to be shocked. _People inevitably disappoint._ That was a lesson he’d learned a long time ago. And if a human girl who made no secret of her weaknesses had led him to forget it, however briefly, then that was his own fault. He had met her family. Her people. And he’d heard her describe the compromises she made on her own behalf. Was it any surprise that she would make compromises on his as well? He could not ask her to change course anymore than he could tell the tides to ignore the moons.

He should have been grateful. He’d always believed that humans were ignorant when it came to magic. Their privilege blinded them--just as Elizabeth’s privilege had blinded her, mage or no. And if someone as open, as thoughtful, as passionate as Elizabeth was that blind--well, then. He no longer needed to waste time wondering if he’d been wrong.

What would it accomplish, anyway, if he’d been wrong? If Elizabeth were more certain--if she _could_ become the person he’d hoped her to be--what would that change? Nothing. He was in no position to form attachments. He had not been for years.

In his youth, just after the war, Solas had been the right hand man of Mythal, a progressive elven politician who’d truly cared about helping her people. Her own party--a supposedly pro-elf party called the Evanuris, which, in truth, had other interests at heart--broke the scandal that destroyed her. It was a disaster. She disappeared from public life, ruined. In his bitterness, Solas spent the next few years clandestinely taking down the seven remaining leaders of the party, scandal by scandal. Some were even true. The party itself did not survive. Since then, there’d been no major pro-elf political movement in Thedas. Tevinter became the dominant power internationally, and the world as a whole shifted further to the right. The person who had shattered the Evanuris was widely blamed. These days, he himself wondered if he’d done the right thing. Had it been justice? Or just a petty need for revenge?

Perhaps time would still tell.

While he’d done it all under a pseudonym, there was always the threat that someone would figure out his true identity. He would be pulled into the public light, and not in a flattering manner. Were he not still writing, it would be easier, almost certainly. But he was not willing to give that up again.

It was no life to drag a good friend into, let alone a partner. He had Felassan, and a handful of others--people who had known him at the time. There was no room for anyone else.

All things considered, this was for the best. It was a relief that whatever drew him to Elizabeth could become irrelevant now, given her lack of character. He was no longer in danger.

The moment he left the forest, his phone buzzed four times, breaking his ruminations. He checked his screen. Four texts, all from Felassan.

_11:54 AM_

_Do you know of Maevaris Tilani?_

_Journalist. Vint. Well-respected._

_I will take that as a no. Her people reached out to me about a collaboration. She’s interested in exploring ancient elven influence on Tevinter culture, but was reluctant to do so without an elven co-author._

_I can already hear you objecting, but I promise, she sounds sincere._

Solas had heard the name, but could not place it immediately. He googled her, and blinked in surprise when the first result was a Wikipedia page. A fairly extensive one, as well. She was a professor of magic, and also an activist, and had several books to her name. Normally, he preferred to work alone, but she certainly seemed established. Plus, the Tevinter reliance on elven society and customs was criminally under-explored. It could be a good opportunity.

He sent a quick reply to Felassan, asking him to find out more information. Almost instantly, the phone vibrated again.

_11:55 AM_

_Will do._

_By the way, she got your name from a Dorian Pavus. I couldn’t help but notice he’s a member of the Inquisition._

_So. Feel free to tell me off for doubting you, when you return._

Solas frowned. _Dorian Pavus._ That was a name he knew well. If Dorian was recommending him to people, that meant Elizabeth had likely said something. The two of them had always been close.

For the first time since she’d yelled at him, he felt a brush of shame. This was not a social arrangement. It was transactional. She was holding up her end of the bargain, and he was struggling to even be grateful. True, there were no circumstances where he’d consider what he’d done _wrong._ But he had, perhaps, been unnecessarily harsh in his response, given the extent of their involvement.

Or rather, their lack of involvement.

He paused outside the hut, staring across the lake. The sun bore down in the full heat of the summer, painting the water in sparkling white and blue. It was bright enough to make him wince.

Denial could only carry him so far. He knew exactly why he’d reacted the way that he had. Whether he’d always had feelings for her, or whether they’d developed over these past few weeks--it did not matter. He felt something toward her. He felt more tenderly than he’d felt toward anyone in a long time. It was the reason he was so frustrated. From the strength of his anger, he’d considered himself out of danger, but the opposite was true.

He had been hurt by her actions, because he was well on his way to falling in love with her.

And worse, this disappointment was not enough to stamp out his feelings.

He sighed and turned away. At least she could not suspect him of anything now, after their argument. He only needed to make it through the next two days. Then he could go back to his solitary life, where he did not need to concern himself with this complicated mess of a family.

Or the pleasure of seeing Elizabeth’s eyes.

The thought hurt more than he would care to admit.

 

~

 

Cullen and Jane showed up just past noon. Elizabeth threw herself into decorating, determined not to think about anything unpleasant around Jane. She knew her sister could read her like a book. The last thing she wanted was to give Jane any reason to worry.

But she did not take her other family members into account. She was wrapping one of the pillars in cream tulle when Mary, Kitty, and Lydia arrived. Elizabeth wondered if her three youngest sisters would be more help or harm in setting up, then chastised herself. She needed to be better about giving them a chance to prove themselves.

That chance did not last long.

“Lizzie!” Lydia hissed, grabbing her by the arm. “What the fuck happened between Johnny and Solas?”

 _“Sh!”_ Elizabeth exclaimed, hushing her. She looked over her shoulder at Jane, Cullen, and her mother, who were thankfully occupied on the other side of the pavillion with folding napkins. Elizabeth returned her focus to her younger sisters. “Phoebe broke her arm. Solas healed her, and John didn’t take it well.” She gave them all a glare. “We’re _not_ telling Jane.”

“Maker’s breath,” Kitty said. “It’s always something.”

“He got mad because Solas _healed_ Phoebe?” Lydia asked.

“Of course he did,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. “Johnny’s a jerk.”

Elizabeth was surprised at that. “I thought you of all people would be on John’s side here.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Mary asked.

“Well,” Elizabeth said hesitantly. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of magic.”

“When I was a kid, sure, Maybe. But now, who cares?” Mary gave Elizabeth a look. “I’ve been with the Wardens for three years, Lizzie. You know we have mages, right?”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said.

Mary frowned at her. “Okay, maybe I was a little harsh about it growing up. I’m sorry about that. But that’s just because we weren’t around it that much.”

“Um, what are you talking about?” Lydia said. She gestured at Elizabeth. “Your sister’s a mage, you idiot.”

“I know,” Mary said defensively. “But she never, like, _used magic_ around us.”

“That’s true,” Kitty agreed, studying Elizabeth. “You didn’t, really, did you?”

“I… didn’t want to worry anyone,” Elizabeth said with a weak shrug.

“So I never got used to it,” Mary explained. “Once I saw people use magic on a regular basis, I was fine with it.”

“Whatever,” Lydia said. “The point is Johnny _is_ a jerk.” Mrs. Trevelyan spotted them and called out Lydia’s name. Lydia waved and lowered her voice. “Don’t worry. None of us will say anything to Jane.”

Elizabeth nodded vaguely as her sisters walked away. She felt even worse than she had before. Not only had she yelled at Solas--it was probably her own fault that her family had never adjusted to having a mage in the family. She’d been so worried about disturbing them that she’d never tried to push back against their expectations. And maybe she should have.

Elizabeth sat down at a table, putting her head in her hand. She felt ill. Having Solas around her family was like shining a bright flashlight onto the darkest parts of her life, illuminating the flaws.

Here she was, a hypocrite. It was as if she had two moral compasses--one she knew to be true, and one that she adjusted for her family. One she’d expected Solas to adjust for her. And now, hearing _Mary_ of all people defend magic--it made her question the reality she’d accepted for so long.

The truth was that she was ashamed. She was ashamed of the fact that she was a mage. And she let that shame creep into every other part of her world.

She took a shaky breath.

“Lizzie?” Jane’s voice asked, and she jumped. Jane had come across the pavillion, and was looking at her with a concerned expression on her face. “Are you alright?”

Elizabeth managed a smile. “Yes. Fine.” She cleared her throat and looked over at the rest of their family. “How are the napkins coming along?”

Jane paused, clearly not believing her. But before she could push the matter, a man came into the pavillion, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. From the tightness of his walk, he seemed to be stressed.

“Which one of you are the bride and groom?” he asked in an urgent tone.

Cullen stepped forward to join Jane, crossing his arms. “That would be us.”

“I’m Jim,” the man said, holding out the hand that was not holding a clipboard. Cullen and then Jane shook it. “I run the grounds here.”

“Ah, yes. You work for Betty, I believe? We spoke on the phone. I’m Cullen. This is Jane.”

Jim gave them an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said. “We’ve been having some electrical problems, and….” He sighed. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this. It looks like the power to the pavilion will be out for the next few days.”

 _“What?”_ Mrs. Trevelyan exclaimed, standing.

Jane blinked. She exchanged a horrified look with Cullen. _“All_ the power?” she asked. Jim nodded. “But… what will we do about lights? And music?”

“We've had this issue before. We can put the sound system on a generator,” Jim said. “As for lights…. Well, we have candles. And lanterns.” He shrugged. “Maybe we can bring the floodlights over from the football field?” He winced as Jane stared at him in shock. “I really can’t tell you how sorry I am. I promise, we will be applying a heavy discount to your overall cost--”

“Oh, Maker,” Mrs. Trevelyan moaned. “This is a _disaster.”_

Jane’s expression cleared. She snapped into control mode. “No,” she said, holding up a hand. “No, it will be fine. We’ve got twenty-four hours.” She looked back at Jim. “Can we find another generator before the wedding?”

Jim shook his head. “Running two of them together would be a fire hazard,” he said.

“And a wooden room full of candles isn’t?” Cullen said dryly.

“I don’t make the laws,” Jim told him. “We really feel terrible--”

“As well you should!” Mrs. Trevelyan shouted. She sounded on the verge of tears.

“Mama,” Jane assured her. “We’ll figure something out.” To Jim, she suggested, “Maybe you can bring us the candles so we can see what they look like?”

“Yes,” Jim said, clearly grateful for the opportunity to leave. He backed away. “I’ll do that right now.”

“Lydia and I can go buy some battery operated lights,” Kitty offered once he was gone. “I think there’s a Walmart somewhere around here.”

“That’s a good idea,” Elizabeth said. As they left together, she called over her shoulder, “Send us pictures before you buy anything! And nothing in neon!”

“No promises,” Lydia called back.

“It might even look pretty,” Jane told Cullen, touching his arm. “You know. Romantic.”

Cullen rubbed his forehead. “Maker’s breath. Someone will need to tell the photographer.”

Jane looked crestfallen. “Oh. The pictures,” she said. “Of course.” She shook her head. “We’ll just have to do as many as possible before sunset. I’ll call her.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Cullen said with a wave of his hand. “You have enough on your plate.” He stalked off, pulling out his cellphone.

“The nerve of these people--!” Mrs. Trevelyan said.

Elizabeth caught Mary’s eye and made a jerking motion with her head. Mary picked up on her meaning. “Mama,” she said. “Why don’t we go for a walk? We can see if they set up the main hall yet. The lights are working there.” The rehearsal dinner was being held indoors, at the main hall.

Mrs. Trevelyan agreed with a sigh, and the two of them left.

“I’m so sorry, Jane,” Elizabeth said once they were alone.

“It’s fine,” Jane insisted. She smiled weakly. “Something has to go wrong with every wedding, right? This isn’t so bad. At least it’s August. The sun won’t set until after dinner.”

“That’s true,” Elizabeth said in an encouraging tone.

“It will be fine,” Jane insisted again, this time half to herself.

Elizabeth hoped her sister believed that.

 

~

 

In the wake of the drama with the electricity, Elizabeth had almost forgotten about Solas. She, Jane, and Cullen finished decorating the pavillion in record time, with additional help from Branson and Rosalie Rutherford. Mary managed to keep Mrs. Trevelyan away, which helped matters a great deal. And Jane was too distracted to ask Elizabeth if she was alright again. 

Elizabeth had to admit it looked beautiful--all pale green and gold and cream. Kitty and Lydia had found a few hideous electric lights that Cullen decorated with leftover tulle; that would provide a little more visibility after dark. The empty vases were the only thing that still needed to be filled.

But the shame came rushing back the moment she left to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. She approached their bungalow with a solid brick of dread in her stomach, practicing her apology over and over in her head. The sun was setting. The few thin clouds in the sky looked as if they were on fire. It was at odds with the silent thunder of her mind.

She slipped inside quietly. Solas was reading on the sofa, but he stood when he saw her enter, placing his book on the coffee table in one swift motion. He was dressed for the dinner already, wearing a charcoal gray suit that looked--like most things--unfairly good on him. Had it only been that morning that she’d realized that her admiration of him went beyond objective? And now, she’d ruined everything.

She was an idiot.

“Elizabeth,” he said.

She held up her hand to stop him. “I am so, so sorry. I was completely out of line, yelling at you like that.” She crossed her arms, looking down. “And you were right. For the record, I already apologized to my mother, which… I don’t know.” She winced. “I understand if you want to leave.”

“You apologized to your mother,” Solas said sharply. “Why?”

Elizabeth paused. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She went off script. “Because I’m weak.”

“Elizabeth,” he said, softening.

“Because you were right,” she went on. “I... I compromise my principles around them. Around her. And maybe I’m complicit in how they act about mages. If I challenged them more often, growing up--maybe things would be better.”

“They are your family,” he said. “You cannot possibly put that pressure on a child.”

Elizabeth blinked, feeling a hot tear escape. It trailed down her cheek. “I’m not a child anymore, though.”

Solas hesitated for a moment, then, to Elizabeth’s surprise, pulled her in to a hug. He was solid and warm, and she was uncertain what to do with the surge of emotion she felt.

“You are not weak,” he told her firmly.

“It feels like I am,” she said.

“You have a weakness, for your family. There is a difference.”

The comfort only made her feel worse. She didn’t speak, for fear of sobbing openly. This had not been the plan--to make him pity her until he forgave her. She held her breath until the feeling passed, then inhaled deeply. She realized that he’d put on a touch of cologne. Beneath the scent, she could still detect a hint of Hawke’s suntan lotion.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, pulling back quickly. She dabbed under her eyes with her thumbs and laughed a little wetly. “Obviously, I have a few issues. I can’t imagine what you must think of me now.” Solas didn’t reply. Elizabeth took another breath without looking at him. “Anyway. We should get ready.”

“Allow me to apologize as well,” he said. “What I said to you--it was not my place. And perhaps if I had not acted so quickly, the situation could have been recovered.”

“We were both angry,” she said, shaking her head. “As I said, if you want to just go home--”

“No,” Solas said. “That will not be necessary.”

She looked up then, meeting his eye. There was a certain softness to his expression that she had not expected to see. In the fading sunlight, it made him look young.

She bit her lip, glancing away again. “Okay,” she said. “If you’re sure. I’m going to take a quick shower.” As she pulled her dress out of her bag, she called over her shoulder, “Oh, there will be some people from the Inquisition there tonight. Cassandra. And Dorian, I believe.”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “Ah. Speaking of Dorian, it would seem you already spoke with him about my work.”

Elizabeth looked at him, surprised. “Oh, really? I just sent him an article of yours.”

“Which one?”

“A piece on Veilfire.”

Solas looked pleased. “Well, a colleague of his has already reached out to me.”

“That’s great,” Elizabeth said with a small smile. Solas returned it, and her heart fluttered slightly. As she closed the door to the bathroom behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t fixed everything, but maybe she hadn’t ruined whatever she had with Solas after all.


	8. my heart continues to beat

Solas stared at the ground, lost in thought. The sound of the shower stopped. He tried to make himself look presentable, pushing aside the fact that he’d evidently just overturned a rock that covered decades worth of Elizabeth's shame. _I am a coward,_ she had said, despondent. 

That feeling, he knew all too well. 

He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering what in the Void he was doing. Consoling Elizabeth had felt right in the moment. He could not have just let her _stand_ there, looking small and lost, over words he himself had said. But now he could only think of the way she’d leaned into the embrace, as though he were a source of comfort. How she’d felt in his arms. 

He worried that a line had been crossed. 

Sitting down on the couch, he threaded his hands between his knees. An outside perspective would be helpful. There was Felassan, but Solas knew his friend would only tease and encourage him. Felassan had always underplayed the danger of Solas letting people into his life. For years now, he’d said enough time had passed that no one would care if Solas’s secrets were revealed. But Solas knew better. He knew what kind of enemies he’d made. He could no more enter a relationship with Elizabeth than let her walk into a field of live mines. 

Restless, he stood again and paced the short length of the hut. He would need to act more neutral going forward. At least Elizabeth would be occupied with the wedding for the next two days. They would not need to spend as much time together. Then, on Sunday, they would return to Ostwick. Once home, he could get his bearings straight and stop considering impossible things. 

He paused in front of the sliding door that led to the lake. The world had settled into twilight, the darkening sky brimming with indigo. Stars began to emerge. This far from any city, nearly all of them were visible. 

The bathroom door opened. Solas turned. His fingers curled. Elizabeth wore a short pink summer dress that tied at the middle. A gold circle on a chain hung around her neck, matching her gold sandals and a delicate bracelet on her wrist. Her hair was still damp, and swept to the side in a twist, with a few stray curls escaping. She’d applied something to her eyes that made them appear even darker against her skin, and darkened her lips to a becoming shade of red. 

Solas had seen her in work outfits, and now had seen her in casual clothes several times. But he had never seen her in anything quite like this. 

“You look--,” Solas began. He thought better of it. “That color suits you,” he said instead.

“Oh. Thank you.” She touched her cheek. “No sign of the tears?” she asked, worried. Solas shook his head. She smiled, a little sadly. “Good. We should head out, then. I don’t want to be late.” She gave a short, dry laugh. “Well, a little late would be fine.”

He smiled back. “Do you know where we are meeting?”

Elizabeth packed a few items into a gold clutch. “There’s an arch, between the pavilion and the lake. That’s where the ceremony will be tomorrow. Tonight’s dinner is in the main hall, afterwards.” She winced. “Oh. Just so you know. The pavilion lost electricity this afternoon. It won’t be fixed by the wedding. There will be a generator for the band, but they’ll have to use candles once it gets dark. Probably don’t mention it tonight. Mama is pretty upset.”

Of course it was the mother who was not to be bothered - not Jane or Cullen. Solas felt a spike of annoyance on their behalf. From what he’d seen and heard thus far, he assumed Mrs. Trevelyan was making a larger deal over the problem than either of them, while offering very little in way of a solution. The irony that lighting would not be an issue under different circumstances--say, if Elizabeth’s mother had any respect for magic--was not lost on him. 

“That is a shame,” was all he said out loud. Engaging in Elizabeth’s family drama was a mistake he would not repeat. If a line had been crossed earlier, then it was all the more important to uphold his boundaries going forward. Elizabeth looked at him expectantly. He opened the door for her with a cool smile. “Shall we?”

 

~

 

Solas was quiet as they made their way to the rehearsal. Elizabeth resisted the urge to fill the silence with smalltalk, suspecting it was deliberate on his part. She’d begun to see a pattern in his moods--when he had something on his mind, or when something bothered him, he withdrew from conversation entirely. It was, she now realized, the reason for the awkwardness during the car ride, and then again after the incident with the suntan lotion. 

 _What_ was on his mind was another matter. She could not help but remember what Hawke had told her, back at the lake. That he’d been… _admiring_ her in her bathing suit. 

She pushed the thought out of her mind. If Hawke was right, and the attraction was mutual, that only brought up new issues to address. Clearly, something was holding him back. 

And if she were honest, there were things holding her back, too. The memory of her ex claiming that she’d wasted years of his life by not wanting marriage or children - the thought that Solas would always believe she was afraid of her own magic - the fear that this was all an illusion that would break the moment she tried for something more real. Besides, this weekend was for Jane and Cullen. Anything else Elizabeth was feeling could be sorted out once they got back to Ostwick. 

The ceremony site was not too far from their cabin. It was made up of a modest wicker arch with vines and white roses twirling around the sides. Most of the party had already arrived. They were milling around, talking. The officiant was there as well - Cassandra Pentaghast, another former coworker of Jane’s. She was in a deep conversation with Cullen. 

Jane went over as soon as she spotted her sister. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Elizabeth hugged her. “You look amazing!” It was true. Jane had chosen a long white sundress with blue flowers that matched her eyes. Her blonde hair was in a long braid. Jane was always beautiful, but she often tried to play down her looks, worried they’d interfere with others taking her seriously. 

“Thank you,” Jane replied without smiling. She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder. 

Elizabeth studied her. “Is something the matter?”

“I….” Jane trailed off and glanced at Solas. “Solas, may I have a private word with my sister?”

“Of course,” Solas said. “Good luck with the rehearsal.”

Elizabeth turned back to her sister as he left. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Mama,” Jane said in a low voice. “Ever since the news about the electricity, she’s been in _a mood.”_ Jane twisted her hands together, her brow creasing. “Cullen knows how she can be, but the other Rutherfords…. I don’t know, Lizzie. Oh, I’m so worried.” 

Elizabeth frowned. Jane was not one to complain about Mama. Of all the sisters, she was the least likely to say something about Mrs. Trevelyan’s behavior. “Did she say something already?” she asked.

Jane hesitated. “She… she mentioned Sebastian to Mia.”

Elizabeth’s lips parted in shock. Sebastian was the son of an old friend of Mama’s, one who’d married into royalty. Jane had dated him briefly in high school. They’d parted mutually well before university, but Mrs. Trevelyan had never gotten over the break-up. 

“What did she say?” Elizabeth asked, horrified. 

“That I’d dated an actual prince at one point,” Jane said, twisting her hands. “And that she liked Cullen very much, but wasn’t it a shame, because there was nothing quite like royalty.”

 _“No,”_ Elizabeth said. 

“Yes!”

“Maker’s breath,” Elizabeth muttered. “Where’s Father?” 

“Oh, who knows? You know him. He just complains about her being ridiculous and then wanders off to speak with anyone else he can find.” Jane stared at Elizabeth with wide eyes. “What should I do?”

Elizabeth shook her head. Talking to Mrs. Trevelyan about her behavior was out. That often had the opposite intended effect. And while Elizabeth thought warning the Rutherfords might help, doing so the _day before the wedding_ sounded like it would be too little too late. 

There was one solution Elizabeth could think of. She hated it, instantly. If it had been anyone but her sister, she would have quashed the thought instantly, but this was _Jane,_ standing before her, begging for help. 

She sighed. “I’ll stay with her at the party,” she said. 

“Are you… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth assured her. “I won’t argue with her. I promise. I’ll just keep an eye on things. If a conversation starts to get too awkward, I’ll change the subject.” Jane still looked worried. “At the very least I can warn you if she _does_ say something. Would that help?”

“I--yes,” Jane said. Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay. Yes. You’re right. That would make me feel better. But… are you sure it won’t be too much for you? I know you don’t always see eye-to-eye.” 

“Of course I’m sure.” Elizabeth smiled. “Maid of Honor duties, right?”

Jane returned the smile, gratefully. “Thank you,” she said. Her mouth fell into an _‘oh’._ “But what about Solas?”

Elizabeth shot a glance at the man in question. To her relief, he was speaking with Cassandra and Cullen with no trace of his earlier reticent mood. If anything, getting out of his way for the evening might help him be more social with the right people. Jane did not know that he had an agenda of his own, so Elizabeth decided not to mention that. Instead, she told her sister, “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He knows plenty of people here, you know. And it’s not like we’re actually dating. We don’t need to be tied at the hip.”

Jane seemed mollified. _“Thank you,”_ she said again. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I think I do,” Elizabeth said wryly, and they both laughed. They hugged once again before Jane squeezed her arm and walked away. Elizabeth made her way back to Solas. Cassandra looked to be inspecting the arch, and Cullen had been pulled aside by his groomsmen, so he was now alone. He held a glass half full of champagne, one meant for toasting. He took in her expression and raised an eyebrow. 

“Change of plans,” she said in a low tone. “You’ll have to fend for yourself tonight. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he said, looking a bit relieved. “Is everything alright?”

Just then, Cassandra called out, “Wedding party! I need you here.”

Elizabeth let out a long breath. “No. But I’ll have to tell tell you later.” She grabbed his hand to give it a squeeze. It seemed to startle him. She dropped it. “Wish me luck.”

He nodded. “Good luck,” he said sincerely. 

 

 

~

 

The rehearsal itself went as well as could be expected. Mrs. Trevelyan seemed to be behaving, despite all odds. Elizabeth snuck off to the side for a moment, while Phoebe was learning to throw flowers, and explained to Solas that she would be following her mother for the evening. He was more than understanding.

After they finished, Cassandra asked Elizabeth for help re-adjusting the arch to face further south, so the sunset would not be in everyone’s eyes the following day. Elizabeth threw a worried look over her shoulder as Mrs. Trevelyan left. Surely, she decided, her mother could not get into _too_ much trouble in five or ten minutes. 

Dinner was held in the main hall. The set up was similar to breakfast, with a buffet table of chicken, pizza, and pasta, and a small counter in the corner that served beer and wine. Upon arriving, Elizabeth took in the room. Her eyes widened as they landed on a large figure hovering by the appetizers.

“Oh, shit,” she muttered. 

“What?” Cassandra asked, confused. 

“It’s…,” she began, stopping herself. “I'm sorry. Please, excuse me.”

 As she made her way to Hawke’s looming figure, Elizabeth slapped herself mentally. With all the drama over the course of the day, she’d forgotten to warn Jane and Cullen about Hawke’s presence. And _of course_ Hawke would show up to the rehearsal dinner. Of course. Elizabeth should have seen this coming from a mile away. 

“Hawke,” she said when she reached the buffet. 

Hawke turned, grinning. “Good evening, Trevelyan!” she said cheerfully. She glanced over Elizabeth. “Wonderful spread. You simply _must_ try the rollatini.” 

 _“Hawke,”_ Elizabeth said again. “This time, you’re definitely crashing.”

“Maybe,” Hawke admitted. “Sort of. A little bit.” She had something that looked like a breaded mozzarella stick in one hand. Whatever it was, she stuffed into her mouth. She caught sight of Elizabeth’s expression. “Oh, don’t worry so much, Trevelyan. Your sister already thanked me for coming.” She rolled her eyes. “Called it, by the way. I bet I even get a ‘thank you’ note.” She squinted, thinking. “Does she knows where I live?”

_“Hawke--”_

“I suppose she could send it care of Varric. Seems the Miss Manners-y thing to do." She snorted. "Rutherford was in a mood. I forgot how red his face goes.” She imitated an angry scowl. _“Grrr, the Maker judge me whole.”_

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but a voice next to them stopped her. “Well, I don’t believe _you_ helped matters by making fun of his outfit.”

Elizabeth’s concerns were briefly forgotten. “Dorian!” she exclaimed, delighted. 

“Elizabeth Trevelyan. We were wondering when you’d show up. How are you?” 

They hugged. Then Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re crashing, too.”

Dorian scoffed. “Hardly! I assure you, I’m above board. Cullen ran into me this afternoon, and suggested Bull and I attend.” 

“Bull’s here?” Elizabeth asked excitedly. “Where is he?”

He pointed over his shoulder. “Back with the ruffians, I’m afraid. You should stop by. He’d love to say hello.” 

“See?” Hawke said, waving a hand. “Last minute invitations abound!” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on,” Hawke said, picking up another fried item. She popped it into her mouth. “I’m already here,” she mumbled around it. “What are you going to do, kick me out? Besides, I brought Varric with me. You know from experience that he improves every party.” She grabbed Elizabeth by the hand and tugged her. “Come! Be social!” 

She dragged Elizabeth over to a table with the Iron Bull, Laurence, Bertram, Solas, and Varric. Dorian trailed behind. Varric and Bertram were laughing so hard at something Laurence said that they looked near tears. 

“Hey there, Little Boss,” Bull said when he spotted her, standing to hug her with a grin.

“Good to see you, Bull,” she said. 

That drew Varric’s attention. “Blaze!”

Elizabeth gave him a look as Bull sat back down. “You know, I expect this kind of behavior from Hawke. But you? Really?”

“Oh, please,” Hawke said. “Varric turning up unannounced is practically a tradition. I don’t think he’s been invited to a single event in Kirkwall since 9:21 Dragon.”

“And look at all this food!” Varric said, gesturing to the buffet behind him. “Who’s going to eat that? We’re doing you a favor. A gift to the gods of catering.”

“Uh huh,” Elizabeth said flatly. 

Hawke took the seat next to him. “It’s not like the once and future Rutherfords will be here that long, is it? They have a big day tomorrow. The food’s always better at these things, anyway. Weddings are all dry beef with wilted spinach and bland chicken in a lemon sauce. Back me up here, Merchant. You’re some kind of chef, aren’t you?”

“It’s _Marchand,”_ Laurence corrected her. 

“Hm,” Hawke said. “I could have sworn that woman introduced you to me as Lawrence Merchant.”

“Ah, yes. Bertram's aunt Fanny,” Laurence told her, amused. He chuckled. “She has always had a bit of trouble with my name.”

Dorian’s eyes lit up. “Your mother’s here?” 

Elizabeth gave up on Hawke, who was now chatting animatedly with Laurence. “Of course she is,” she told Dorian. 

He sat down, grinning. “Ah! Does this mean I finally get to meet the infamous Fanny Trevelyan?” 

“I don’t know if _finally_ is the word I’d use," Elizabeth said dryly. 

“Oh, but I’ve heard _so_ many stories.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” She scanned the room. “I’m supposed to go find her. I’m keeping an eye on her for Jane.”

“What’s she up to these days?” Dorian placed his chin on his hand. “Let me guess: she insisted on a Mother of the Bride cake. No, no! She has her own first dance. An interpretive solo about how difficult her life is. Wait! I’ve got it. She’s wearing a white dress tomorrow.”

Elizabeth groaned. “Andraste preserve me. I hope not.” She saw a tuft of blonde hair above a bright purple dress. “There she is.”

“Where?” Dorian said in a stage whisper. 

“The blonde woman, over by the door.”

“The one talking to Cullen?” Dorian asked. At Cullen’s name, Hawke glanced over her shoulder again. Dorian hummed. “Well, she’s innocuous, isn’t she. From the stories, I rather expected something like an archdemon.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Elizabeth said. She frowned. Her mother was making very insistent hand motions and looked quite serious. “What in Andraste’s name is she doing?”

Hawke followed their gaze and squinted. “Giving Rutherford some sort of instructions, by the look of it.”

“Right. That's my cue,” Elizabeth said, turning to leave. 

“Oh, give her another moment,” Hawke begged. “Please? Come on. Being ordered around by half-crazed middle-aged blonde ladies is Rutherford's favorite pastime.” Elizabeth gave Hawke a shocked look. Even Dorian looked put out by the comment. Hawke rolled her eyes. “Oh, what, mentioning _that_ is off the table now?”

“Hawke,” Elizabeth said, exasperated. “Can you just please, please, _please_ go easy on my future brother-in-law for the next day? Just 24 hours. _Please?_ For me?”

Hawke pursed her lips. Her eyes flicked to Solas. She sighed, and pulled a water bottle out of her bag. 

“Okay,” she said. “Fine.” She took a swig, then pointed at Elizabeth. “But you owe me.”

“That’s not how this--,” Elizabeth began. She blew out her breath. “Fine. _I owe you.”_ She glanced at Solas, who was now watching them from across the table. “Will you be fine?”

“Certainly,” he said. He gave her a searching look. “Will you?”

Elizabeth grabbed the half glass of wine in front of Dorian and downed it in two gulps. “Ask me again after dinner,” she told Solas.

With that, she made her way across the room to save Cullen from her mother.  

 

~

 

“It’s a _real_ diamond, of course,” Mrs. Trevelyan was saying. “Jane didn’t want one - some nonsense about the _diamond industry_ and _labor rights_ \- but _luckily,_ Bert’s family had an old heirloom laying around. Cullen got it reset in white gold. Thank the Maker! Can you imagine if she’d ended up with something lab created? A woman in her position! What a disaster.”

Elizabeth stood next to her mother, fuming. Fortunately, Mrs. Trevelyan was speaking with Louisa, a good friend of Jane’s from high school. Louisa was more than familiar with Mama. She’d be difficult to shock and offend, allowing Elizabeth to take a step back. Better let Mrs. Trevelyan ramble when she could. 

Elizabeth knew that, tonight, she’d have to choose her battles. 

Babysitting Mama was just as awful as she had expected. She hated it. She _hated_ it. This was what they all done as children - sat silently while Mama spouted her uninformed opinions to their friends and neighbors. If they were lucky, their friends found it amusing, like Dorian and Louisa.

Not everyone did. 

Elizabeth’s mind flicked to Solas. She sipped her iced tea, hoping it would help her headache. She’d decided that more wine after that first glass would be a bad idea. _You’re doing this for Jane,_ she reminded herself firmly. 

Maybe this had been why Lydia went right to lying as a solution to her predicament in the first place. Maker knew they were encouraged to pretend as children.

Mrs. Trevelyan lowered her voice. “Now, Theodora Astley - I don’t suppose you’ve seen _her_ ring.” Louisa confirmed that she had not. “Well! It’s sterling silver. Set with an _amethyst.”_   This was said in a salacious whisper, as if Theodora Astley had walked nude through the Ostwick chantry. Mama sniffed. “But the Astleys have always been an odd sort, haven’t they. I remember when Jane was eleven, and poor Theodora came over to play--”

Elizabeth sensed that this story was going in the wrong direction. Louisa generally enjoyed Mrs. Trevelyan, but Theodora was a mutual friend. Jane wouldn’t want anything getting around her group of friends.  

“Mama,” she interrupted. “You forgot to tell Louisa where Cullen got the stone reset.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Mrs. Trevelyan said, her eyes lighting up. “We found this excellent jeweler. In a mall of all places! His family has been in the business for five generations.” She lowered her voice again. “Good dwarven stock. They always seem to know their jewels, don’t they? I wonder if it’s because they--”

“Oh, look,” Elizabeth interrupted again, a little more frantically. “They’ve put out the dessert.” She put a hand on her mother's arm. “Should we see if they have any of those lemon cookies you like?”

“They do,” Mrs. Trevelyan said. “I planned the menu, didn’t I?” She squeezed Louisa’s hand apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear, we’ll have to finish this later. It was _so_ good seeing you, though! Look at you, all grown up!”

“Good seeing you as well,” Louisa said. She glanced at Elizabeth and smiled. “Both of you. It’s been a long time.”

“Fifteen years,” Mrs. Trevelyan agreed. “Maker! I must seem like a little old lady to you by now.”

“Oh, I assure you, Mrs. T,” Louisa said with good humor. Her eyes smiled. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Elizabeth began guiding her mother to the dessert table. Dorian intercepted them halfway. “Ah,” he said cheerfully. “Elizabeth. Who is this stunning woman you’re with? Please introduce me.”

Elizabeth gave him a look, trying to scream _'Don't'_ with her mind. His smile didn’t falter. She sighed. “Dorian, this is my mother. Fanny Trevelyan. Mama, this is Dorian Pavus. He works with Jane.”

 _“The_ Mrs. Trevelyan!” Dorian said. “No, surely not. You’re not old enough to be Jane’s mother. Though I certainly see the resemblance.”

Mama smiled widely. “You’re too kind! What exactly do you do with the Inquisition?”

“I’m in the magics department,” Dorian replied easily. He did not seem to catch Mrs. Trevelyan stiffen slightly. “We’ve worked together for seven years. You have a delightful daughter.” He gestured to Elizabeth. “Several, in fact. Elizabeth and I have been friends for a few years. And I’ve had the pleasure of meeting three more of your daughters this weekend.”

“Thank you,” Mama said. Her tone had cooled significantly. “I’m sure Jane appreciates you coming. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She resumed her walk to the dessert table. 

Dorian shot Elizabeth a confused glance. “Magic,” she explained quietly. “Mama’s not a big fan.”

Dorian looked genuinely surprised. “Really?” he asked. “I had no idea. Jane never mentioned anything. And you're....” He looked toward Mrs. Trevelyan, a frown growing on his face. “Well. I see. I must admit, I expected something from Cullen’s family, but they’ve been nothing but gracious.”

“They’re very sweet,” Elizabeth agreed. She pointed to her mother. “Sorry, I need to--”

“Right,” Dorian cut her off. “Of course." He stopped her. "Oh! A moment - if you’re free after the party, Bull and I are having Hawke and Varric over for drinks. Bull brought some rum back from his most recent visit north. The two other occupants aren’t arriving until tomorrow, so we have one of the big cabins all to ourselves.” 

Elizabeth hesitated. “I don’t know, Dorian. I shouldn’t be up too late. The wedding’s tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to stay for long. Come on. For old time’s sake.” He grinned. “I hear we have a lot to catch up on. I mean, _Solas?_   When you sent over that article, I was surprised to hear you were in contact. But _dating?_ I have _so_ many questions.” Elizabeth looked away and scratched her neck a little awkwardly. “Oh, I’m not judging. I promise. I’m thrilled for you. In fact, bring him along! The more, the merrier.”

She glanced back at the Inquisition table, where Solas was in deep conversation with Varric. Maybe she could have a drink, drop Solas off, and let him socialize while she got some rest. While looking, she caught sight of her mother by the dessert table, talking with Cullen’s aunt. 

“Oh, crap,” she said. “Mama’s found a Rutherford. I've got to go.”

“We’re in Cabin 23!” Dorian called out as she left. 

“I’ll consider it!” she called back over her shoulder. 

“That’s a yes if I ever heard one,” Dorian said cheerfully, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she joined Mama and Aunt Geraldine. 

“So,” she said as brightly as she could manage. She grinned at both of them, hoping she hadn’t missed any serious damage. “How _are_ the cookies?”

 

~

 

Solas spent most of the evening speaking with Varric, save for the few times that Varric was dragged away to engage in various antics and conversations with people Solas didn’t recognize. He caught up with Dorian briefly, and was able to thank him for passing his name on to Maevaris Tilani. He and the Iron Bull discussed picking up their old online chess accounts, something he hadn’t considered in a long time. He spent time with Cassandra, and was pleased to see that she did not hold as much of a grudge as he’d expected. 

In fact, _none_ of them seemed to hold a grudge. 

It was strange. Perhaps the years had softened the blow. Or perhaps the blow had never been as hard as he’d believed. 

But then, who had blacklisted him? And why?

That was a mystery for another date, as it turned out. The moment he was not in the company with someone from the Inquisition, Elizabeth’s father approached, right hand outstretched. Solas straightened, trying not to appear uncomfortable. Talking to Elizabeth's father would have been awkward enough if they were _actually_ dating. Given the circumstances, he assumed it would be ten times worse. 

“Solas,” the man exclaimed. They shook hands. “I wanted to catch you before you left. We didn’t get a chance to talk much last night.” He chuckled. “And I think my duties will keep me a little busy tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Solas said. “Congratulations, sir.”

He laughed. “Oh, please. No need for that. You must be, what? Fifteen years my junior?” Solas opened his mouth to reply, but Elizabeth’s father waved him off. “Call me Bert. Please. And I beg of you, no _‘Mr Trevelyans’!_ Mary’s fellow already tried that. Made me feel about eighty years old.” He took a seat, and Solas followed suit. “So. Where are you from originally?”

“The north,” Solas replied. “Though I have lived in the Free Marches and Ferelden for many years now.”

“The north,” Bert said, nodding. “Not for me, but I must say, it’s a beautiful place. Have you ever been to Minrathous? There’s a magnificent fort there, Fort…. Well, let’s see. Fort Ponditus, I think.”

“Fort Pontidius,” Solas corrected automatically. He pressed his lips closed, hoping he had not offended.

“Ah!” Bert said. His eyes twinkled. “You know it! Impressive stuff. Built for the Second Imperial Civil War, if I'm not mistaken.”

Solas began to pick up that this was a test of some sort. “Actually, I believe construction began during the Nevarran Trade War. Though it was not finished until three years after the conflict ended.”

“So it was,” Bert said with a nod. “So it was. You have an interest in military history, do you?”

“Some,” Solas replied, and Bert grinned. 

They spent the next fifteen minutes discussing various conflicts throughout Thedosian history. Solas found himself enjoying Bert’s company and easy manner. Though he did not know if she had any interest in history herself, he could tell that Elizabeth had much more in common with her father than her mother. He felt a little relieved to know she was not as alone in her family as he'd thought. 

Sometime between the Ferelden Disputes of 4:19 Black, and the Exalted March on Ostwick, Elizabeth appeared beside them with her mother, looking rather wary. 

“Lizzie!” Bert said. He stood. “I feel as though I barely saw you all night.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Elizabeth said dryly, but she let herself be pulled into a hug. When she pulled back, she told him, “Listen, most people have left, and they’re clearing out the food. I told Mama that maybe you guys should head back to your bungalow and get some sleep. Tomorow’s a big day.”

Bert checked his watch and whistled. “Good call,” he said. “I must have lost track of the time. Well, then. Good night, Lizzie." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. Turning to his wife, he held out his arm. "Shall we, my dear?”

As her parents left, Elizabeth exhaled. “Sorry about my dad,” she said. “He wasn’t too bad, was he?”

“On the contrary,” Solas replied. “We had a very pleasant conversation.” She looked doubtful, and he smiled. “I assure you, I was in no need of being rescued.”

She relaxed slightly. “Good." She grimaced. "At least one of us had a pleasant evening.” She glanced around. “Is the bar still open? I could use a drink.”

“No,” Solas said. “However, I was invited to some sort of after party at Dorian’s. My understanding is that there will be rum.”

“Oh, Maker,” she said. “No, I’m _definitely_ not going to that. We’d say we’re staying there for one drink, and then get roped into three. As much as I like them, I need to look good tomorrow.” Solas swallowed back to urge to say that he doubted that would be a problem. “I’m glad you were getting on so well with Dorian, though,” she continued. “He extended an invitation to me, as well. He must have wanted to make sure you felt included. That’s a good sign.”

“My invitation was not from Dorian,” Solas said. “It was from Kitty.”

Elizabeth blinked. “Kitty?” she asked. “Kitty is going? When did--." She shook her head. "Wait. How many people are going to be there?”

“I’m not sure,” Solas replied. “Quite a few, I believe. At a bare minimum, I know that Dorian and Bull will be there. Hawke and Varric, as well. Your two youngest sisters, their partners, Rosalind and Branson Rutherford. Bertram and Laurence--”

Elizabeth cut him off. “Stop, stop, stop. Are you telling me that Lydia is going to be _drinking hard liquor_ with two of Cullen’s siblings? The night before the wedding?”

“As far as I understand it, yes.” Elizabeth put her hands over her face. Solas watched her, concerned. “Elizabeth? Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Elizabeth said through her hands. “Just fine.” She dropped them looking resigned. “Maker. I hope Jane knows how much I love her.”

“Meaning?”

She sighed, meeting his gaze. “Meaning I guess we’re going to an after party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS. Apologies for the hiatus. I ended up breaking this chapter into two, which means this one is a little low on the UST and Solas/Lizzie time. But I need to set up the dominoes to knock 'em down. Hopefully, it won't be so long until the next update :) 
> 
> (Also, apologies if you received double notifications for this. I'm not sure what exactly happened, but the chapter appeared to be double posted on my account. When I deleted one of them, AO3 instead deleted chapter 7, along with all the comments from that chapter. I'm thrilled of course.)
> 
> As always, thank you for the support, kudos, comments, and for reading along.


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